


Closer Than Most

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (kind of), Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Bachelor Auction, Background Erica/Boyd, Background Isaac/Scott/Allison, Background Sheriff/Melissa, Beard Kink, Booty Calls, Bottom Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Charity Auctions, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Oral Sex, Other tags will be added as I write, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles, Rimming, Stubble Burn, Texting, Wolf Sanctuary, but no major triggers or deaths will happen in this fic, mention of canonical character deaths, namely the Hales and Claudia Stilinski, switching POVs, that happened in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura organizes a charity bachelor auction to raise money for the wolf sanctuary she and Derek inherited from their parents. Derek reluctantly gets roped into bidding on one of the bachelors, and he sure as hell doesn't know what he's getting himself into when he decides to bid on Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greenbergsays came up with this prompt, and it simply would not leave my head. Wolwiegirl did some original brainstorming with me, and that's how it all got started. Many thanks to them, and to Qhuinn, who has spent many chats discussing this fic with me, giving me ideas, helping me out, etc. Also to Tina and Sonya, for the corrections, encouragements, etc. I could not have done it without any of you!
> 
> If you like this fic, comments and kudos are immensely appreciated. And if you want to help spread the word, here is the fic's [Tumblr page](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/tagged/Closer%20Than%20Most).
> 
> Edit: Also thanking Siny and Anna for their comments and hand-holding and encouragement!
> 
> Edit: Massive thanks to Juu, for keeping me going with her love and enthusiasm.

Prologue  

“And you’ll be back home just in time for that!” Laura’s voice rings enthusiastically through the phone.

“If I’d known, I would have postponed my return,” Derek mumbles, biting down on a sigh.

“I heard that!” Laura says, then shifts her voice in to what Derek affectionately calls ‘whining’-mode. It’s also known as ‘totally getting her way’-mode, because she always does. “It’s for the wolves!”

“Am I not doing enough for the wolves already?” Derek asks, his eyes falling on the tiny window of his barracks, looking out at the Alaskan snow.

“And you can do even more!” Laura says perkily, “I bet you will raise a ton of money, and – ”

“I am not putting myself up for auction,” Derek cuts her off.

“It’s a charity bachelor auction, Derek!” Laura insists, “If you decide to not scowl for two seconds while up on stage, and maybe even…” She does a fake gasp. “… _smile_ at the people bidding, I bet you could raise enough money for The Pack all on your own!”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m somewhat aesthetically pleasing?” Derek quirks an eyebrow, even though Laura won’t be able to tell on the phone.

“Ugh, stop it,” she replies, put upon, “As if you don’t know. Come on, Der. We can seriously use the money. If we go on like this, we could get into real trouble. And then where would the wolves be? Not to mention that this is Mom and Dad’s legacy that they left for us…”

“Quit trying to pull the heartstrings, Laura,” Derek sighs, scratching at his jaw, because damn if it isn’t almost working. There is nothing that Derek would hate to see happen more than them having to give up their parents’ wolf sanctuary because of a shortage of money. “Look, I’m not saying I won’t participate. I can help in other ways, can’t I?”

He can hear Laura huff over the phone.

“I’ll help you put together the charity,” Derek continues, “Help coordinate things on the evening itself.”

“And bid on one of our bachelors,” Laura says, and she doesn’t even make it a question.

“Laura…” Derek sighs.

“It’s that or be a bachelor up for bids yourself, Derek,” she says, and he can hear when he’s defeated.

“Who died and made you in charge of my life?” Derek mutters, and he winces the second he hears the way it came out.

“Your sense of humor sucks, brother,” Laura deadpans.

Derek rubs his fingers over his eyes and utters a small, “Sorry.”

“Besides,” Laura starts again, “This way you might actually go out on a date again.”

“I don’t need to – ” Derek starts, but Laura cuts him off.

“When’s the last time you went out with someone, Derek?” she asks.

“I’ve been in Alaska studying wolves for the last six months, Laura,” Derek interjects, “It’s not exactly a dating scene here.”

“And what?” Laura asks, “There are no other biologists there? No one that can get you laid every once in a while? And what about the six months _before_ you left, huh?”

“Goodbye, Laura,” Derek says, indicating the topic is over.

“You’re bidding on one of the bachelors, Der,” Laura says quickly, “And you’re bidding enough to _win_.”

“Bye,” he says firmly, but it might as well have been ‘fine’.

“Bye. Be safe,” Laura says, before he finally hangs up the phone with a sigh.

 _A date_ , he thinks, and he all but shudders at the idea. And yet he can’t help but be somewhat excited at the thought of going back home, seeing his sister again, and their wolves.

***

Derek lets his bag slide off his shoulder as he enters the office, looking around and taking in the familiar surroundings again.

“Can I help you?”

He spins around at the sound of a voice, standing face to face with a beautiful blonde woman.

“You must be Erica,” Derek says, because Laura had already told him about the girl she hired after Derek left.

“Yeah, I…” Erica says, then smiles broadly, “You’re Derek?”

Derek nods, and he’s just about to reach out his hand to properly greet her when she laughs enthusiastically and says, “Oh wow, Laura was right. With you up as bachelor, all our money problems would be gone in a single bid!” She squints her eyes at him and adds with a smirk as she nods towards his beard, “Once you trim off that forest anyway.”

Derek lets out a snort at the candor of this girl he’s only just met, but then again, she _has_ been working with his sister for over six months now.

“Derek!” Isaac says as he enters the office, and it’s nice to see a familiar face since Isaac has been working for The Pack for a while now.

“Hi Isaac,” Derek says, and Isaac pats him heartily on the back as he pulls him in for a bear hug.

“Good to see you,” Isaac smiles genuinely, “How was Alaska?”

“Cold,” Derek says with a shrug.

“And the research?” Isaac asks.

“Really good, actually,” Derek says, somewhat proudly, “With the data we collected, Professor Stein should be able to prove that the grey wolf still needs to be protected under the Endangered Species Act.”

“That’s great,” Erica beams.

“Yeah,” Derek nods, because it really is. “So where’s that sister of mine?”

“At the infirmary,” Isaac says, gesturing towards the backdoor. “We had to patch one up after a fight.”

“Bad?” Derek asks, as he’s already heading towards the back.

“Nah, just some stitches,” Isaac calls after him, “She’ll be fine!”

Derek nods as he disappears out the back door, hurrying towards the barracks out back they call the infirmary. He catches Laura as she’s washing her hands, the injured wolf safely in its kennel.

“Need a hand?” Derek asks, and Laura yelps as she turns around, splashing water everywhere.

“Derek!” she shrieks, and before Derek knows it, she’s jumping in his arms, wet hands dripping on his back.

“What are you doing here?” Laura asks, “I thought you were coming back on Tuesday?”

“I caught an earlier flight,” Derek says, squeezing her tight for another second before letting go.

She promptly puts her hand on his chin and gives his head a little shake.

“And what’s this?” she asks, scratching her fingers through his beard. “Did you not shave even once while you were away?”

“My work was all wrapped up, so there was nothing keeping me there,” Derek continues as if Laura hadn’t said a thing, tilting his head to shrug off her hand.

“No handsome biologist or Alaskan native keeping you there?” Laura teases, nudging him in the shoulder.

“I told you…” Derek sighs.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ll be picking out a date next Saturday then,” Laura says cheerfully.

“Who have you roped into auctioning themselves off anyway?” Derek asks.

“You make it sound so seedy,” Laura says, and yet her tone implies she approves. “Well, I’m putting myself up, for starters.” She gestures towards herself as she poses – what he assumes must be – sexily. “Erica and Isaac are in as well, of course.”

“Poor kids,” Derek mutters jokingly, but Laura just fixes him with a stare.

“And then we asked around, got some friends involved. Remember Caitlin?” Laura asks, and Derek nods. “She’s participating. We even got the sheriff to sign up! Can you believe that?”

“Sheriff Stilinski?” Derek frowns. He remembers the sheriff from the aftermath of the fire. Derek has always appreciated the way he and Laura were treated by the sheriff’s department that day. “How on earth did you manage that?” Derek asks, incredulous.

“His son is good friends with Erica,” Laura explains, “And apparently he can work miracles! He’s got half the sheriff’s station coming over on Saturday.”

“Impressive,” Derek says, stepping over at the kennel to take a closer look at the injured wolf, who’s sleeping off the sedative in its cage. There’s a strip of fur shaved off on its side, where a nasty cut has been skillfully sewed up.

“Stiles is putting himself up for auction as well, by the way,” Laura says, her tone leery.

“ _Stiles_?” Derek asks, frowning, because who names their kid Stiles anyway?

“ _The Sheriff’s kid_ ,” Laura says, exasperated, “Jesus, Derek, are you even paying attention?”

Derek gestures towards the wolf instead, raising his eyebrows at Laura.

“I checked her wounds, no infection,” Laura says, “She’ll be out of solitary tomorrow.”

Derek nods, then tries to pick up the thread of the conversation.

“Wait, wait, he named his kid _Stiles Stilinski_?” Derek asks, grimacing.

“That’s just what he likes to be called,” Laura says, “He’s been helping us out a lot, actually, organizing the event. He’s a good guy.”

“I always get scared when people are deemed good in your book,” Derek deadpans.

***

Chapter 1

The first days of Derek being back home are mostly spent with Laura, the wolves, and settling back into his old apartment that he’d managed to sublet for the six months he was away. Alaska had been mostly quiet, days spent working in solitude, surrounded by snow and beautiful landscapes, which fit Derek perfectly. And as much as he loves Laura, her presence can be a bit… much at times. So Derek quite happily manages to avoid the meetings Laura organizes for the charity event with her friends and colleagues. He contents himself with getting ‘to-do’ lists from Laura to make sure everything’s ready for Saturday.

Which is why he’s finding himself in the supermarket Friday afternoon, picking up a butt load of beverages in Laura’s truck. He’s filling up his second flatbed cart with booze, when his eyes fall on a wooden statue of a howling wolf, decorated with a Native American design. It’s absolutely gorgeous and would be perfect as maybe an additional prize for the highest bidder of the auction. A little extra incentive to get people to really dig into their wallets.

Except the statue is laying in someone’s cart, and he has no idea which aisle they found it in. There’s a lithe guy with messy hair and supple lips pushing the cart as a red-haired woman on heels that would make everyone trip – except her, apparently – puts some more bottles of water in the cart.

“We’re not even in charge of drinks,” the guy grimaces, but the girl stacks on another case of water bottles.

“Everyone always forgets the water,” the girl says, as if it’s _obvious_. 

“There’s tap,” the guy mutters under his breath, but if it’s loud enough for Derek to hear, the girl definitely heard even though she’s completely ignoring any mention of it. Derek represses the urge to smile at the face the guy’s pulling as he mouths what Derek thinks might be ‘Heaven forbids’ through red bitten lips.

Derek sneaks another look at the wolf statue, before loading some more drinks onto his cart.

“Oh, can’t forget the veggie burgers for my Dad!” he can hear the guy say from across the aisle, and then motions towards another aisle as the girl nods with a lipstick-red smile.

Derek would be lying if his eyes weren’t drawn to the guy’s ass before he disappears out of view. When he looks back towards the girl, she’s eying him with a quirked eyebrow and pursed lips, and Derek clears his throat quickly before marching up to her and pointing towards the statue in her cart.

“Uhm, this wolf statue,” Derek says, as he tries to keep a straight face, “Where did you find it?”

Much to Derek’s gratitude, the girl pretends she didn’t just catch him checking out her friend’s – _boyfriend’s?_ – ass and gestures towards her right.

“All the way in the back,” she says.

“Thank you,” Derek says, plastering on a smile.

“I believe there’s still a horse left,” the girl says, “And a Native American warrior. Nice design.”

“Oh,” Derek says with a beat, “I need a wolf.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” the girl answers, perky, “This is the last one.”

Derek’s gaze is stuck on the beautiful statue that’s sitting right in front of him, before he looks up at the girl and flashes her a bright smile.

“Is there any way I can persua – ” Derek starts, but the girl puts up her hand, stopping him.

“I’m sorry, we really need the wolf as well,” she says, and she’s not unfriendly, but her tone says there’s no discussion possible. The way she’s looking at him as if she’s waiting to reject his arguments tells him enough.

“Okay,” Derek nods, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Thanks anyway.”

“Sorry,” she says with a shrug, offering him a smile.

“That’s okay,” Derek says, returning to his cart.

After all, it wasn’t on his list from Laura.

When he’s about ready to turn the corner with his cart, the guy returns, holding up a box of veggie burgers triumphantly. Derek sneaks another peek – pert nose and moles spread all over his face – before turning his attention back to his list.

***

Saturday comes along, together with the constant reminder from Laura that Derek place a winning bet on someone tonight, or he’s in real danger of losing a testicle. Or worse.

“You know, bullying is generally frowned upon,” Derek says as he’s stacking clean glasses behind the bar.

“You could always still put yourself up for auction,” Laura says, “That way it doesn’t cost you a thing.”

“As long as this thing doesn’t cost me a testicle…” Derek mutters, and then the door swings open and Erica and Isaac are carrying in some boxes of supplies.

Laura holds the door open for them, so they don’t drop anything.

“Don’t close it just yet,” Erica says, “Stiles and his friends were right behind us in the parking lot.”

“They’re all auctioning themselves off tonight?” Derek asks, squatting down behind the bar to check the extra glasses.

“Just Stiles,” Isaac says, “The others said they’d bid though, and they’re helping us set up.”

“That’s nice,” Derek says, because it’s kind of admirable that a bunch of college kids are offering up their free Saturday evening to help out a wolf sanctuary in need.

“Well, that’s us,” he hears a female voice ring through the room, and he recognizes it immediately as the redhead from the supermarket. The one that took the wolf statue he wanted.

Derek peers up from behind the bar, and sure enough, there she is, the becoming redhead from the store, a case of water in her hands. By her side is an equally beautiful brunette, hair curled over her shoulders, who greets Isaac enthusiastically. Behind them, sure enough, is the guy with the moles on a striking canvas of pale skin. He’s holding the wolf statue in his hands, the one with the colored design painted on it; long, slender fingers wrapped around it. He’s talking to another guy who’s only slightly shorter than him, with shaggy dark hair and an inviting smile, who’s half buried under two cases of water.

“We meet again,” the red-haired girl says, her lips pressed together in a smile.

“Derek, this is Lydia,” Laura says, taking the water out of her hands and setting it on the bar. “And this is Allison, Stiles, and Scott.”

 _Stiles._ So that’s Stiles. 

“Nice to meet you,” Scott beams, while Stiles raises his hand in an awkward wave.

“So we finally get to meet the brother!” Allison smiles.

“Don’t be put off by his grumpiness,” Laura mock-whispers, “He’s really quite enjoyable once you get to know him.”

Derek resists the urge to groan.

“Now I know why you needed the wolf,” Lydia says, tilting her head while she gives him a once-over.

“I thought maybe it could be a gift for the highest bidder of the evening,” Derek says, gesturing towards the statue in Stiles’ hands. “You know, a little extra.”

“That’s a great idea, actually,” Stiles says as he sets the statue down on one of the tables in the corner, “We just thought it’d be nice decoration for the room, but I like it. Extra incentive to bid.”

“Yeah,” Derek says with half a smile, because that’s exactly what he was thinking.

“And this way, if the date they paid a fortune for bums out, they’ll still have something for their trouble,” Erica laughs.

“Well, whoever wins me will obviously have the time of their lives,” Laura says, faux-smug.

“Obviously,” Erica smiles, and they start babbling about what to wear, and how to convince Isaac to wear a suit.

“You’re still bidding on me, right?” Derek hears Stiles ask Lydia, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Don’t worry,” Lydia says, patting him on the arm.

“Because if nobody bids on me, I’ll just die of embarrassment, and for the love of God, Lydia, I don’t want to die of embarrassment,” Stiles continues, “Imagine if people bid on my _father_ , and not me.”

He actually looks mortified for a second, and then Lydia reassures him again, “I promised you I’d bid on you, so I will. Quit worrying.”

And then she’s off with Allison, joining Laura and Erica in their preparations. Stiles groans and drops his head dramatically on Scott’s shoulder.

“You’ll make sure she bids on me, right?” he asks Scott.

“Promise,” Scott smiles, and they shake hands on it, some kind of elaborate handshake that Derek can only assume was invented when they were kids.

***

The room is decorated nicely, there’s music playing, the bartenders already have their hands full, and people keep streaming in. There’s a heightened platform in one end of the room, where Laura’s microphone is already waiting for her. There are cocktail tables with little snacks spread all around the room. The wolf statue is standing on a cocktail table on the stage, nicely in sight of everyone.

If he’s completely honest; Derek is actually kind of impressed Laura has managed to put all this together, with such a great turn-out already. He can only hope the proceeds from the evening will be corresponding.

There’s a big white screen behind the stage that has a projected slideshow on it of pictures and videos of everyday life at the sanctuary, of wolves running around in slow-motion – _“slow-motion is beautiful, Derek. It will make people oooh and aaah”_ – of the good work they do rescuing and offering sanctuary for exiled, captive-born wolves, of the promotion of wolf restoration in historic ranges and their work to protect the remaining wild wolves and their habitat.

“You couldn’t shave?” Laura asks as she comes to stand beside Derek, who is still overseeing the room.

“Give it a rest, Laura,” Derek says, because if he’s entirely honest, he quite likes the six month old beard. And it’s not _that_ bad anyway.

“You look like a homeless person, Derek,” Laura sighs.

“Thanks,” Derek says, sarcastically.

“Got your wallet ready?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll bid,” Derek says, as the Sheriff and a bunch of other sheriff’s department personnel walk in.

“If you bid on me, I’ll – ” Laura starts.

“Cut off my testicles?” Derek supplies helpfully.

“I just want a nice date, Derek,” Laura says, “An _actual_ date. Not one with my brother. And furthermore, I want _you_ to have a nice date too.”

“With an _actual_ person?” Derek asks.  

“I’m sure you can find your pick among the other bachelors,” Laura says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah…” Derek says absentmindedly, as he watches Stiles run up to his father and pull him in a hug.

The auction finally starts, about twenty minutes after the foreseen time, when Laura takes the stage and starts greeting everyone through the microphone. She thanks everyone for coming, explains the cause of why they’re all there, thanks in advance everyone who is going to bid tonight, and explains there is also a possibility to make free donations, without a date attached.

“She’s got quite the presence, hasn’t she? A true Hale.”

Derek looks next to him to find his uncle standing there.

“Hello, Uncle Peter,” Derek says politely, but unemotionally, because Peter is sketchy and unreliable at best. “Don’t tell me you’re here to help?”

“I thought I might make a few bids,” Peter says, “All for the good of the sanctuary, of course.”

“Of course,” Derek nods, and he isn’t unhappy when Peter goes and finds distraction by the bar.

In the meantime, Laura has called up all the bachelors on stage, and is explaining how all bids start at forty dollars, and how bids over one hundred dollars earn you one additional date per hundred. Derek resists a snort when he notices that apparently the girls have succeeded in putting Isaac in a suit after all.

“Alright,” Laura says enthusiastically through the mike, “The first bid is always the most nerve-wracking, so I will sacrifice myself and we will start the bidding at forty dollars!”

Derek looks around the room and there’s animated murmuring already, and Laura laughs, “Come on now, don’t make me look bad!”

“You couldn’t if you tried,” some girl from the crowd calls out and she promptly bids fifty dollars on Laura.

The crowd chuckles, and Laura winks at her. “Now we’re talking!”

There’s a guy that came in with the sheriff that bids sixty, and it seems like that gets the ball rolling, because another guy starts bidding too, and the three of them raise the price quite a lot, but in the end it’s the deputy that offers the most and Laura seems quite pleased with the result if her smile is anything to go by. She always did love a man in uniform.

Next up is Erica, who has squeezed herself into an electric blue corset, much to the delight of a couple of the sheriff’s staff and Boyd, an old friend of Isaac’s. For a brief second, Derek contemplates bidding - after all he did promise Laura - but he feels like taking out someone from The Pack might be viewed as a little bit… unethical. Eventually, it’s Boyd that places the winning bid.

“Aww, that’s so great,” Allison says, who’s now standing next to Derek, together with Scott. “Boyd has been crushing on Erica for such a long time.”

“That feeling is totally mutual,” Scott says, and the smile on Erica’s face and the little jump in her step when she looks back at Boyd could indicate that Scott might be right.

“Maybe this is the little push they needed to get things going?” Derek muses, as he watches Erica squeeze Stiles’ arm excitedly. 

“Isaac is up next!” Scott says eagerly, and Derek quirks an eyebrow because that’s a development he wasn’t expecting.

Before Scott can even raise his hand though, Allison is bidding fifty dollars on him already. Scott gapes at her, but she just winks back.

“Sixty!” Scott calls out, and Allison immediately counters with, “Seventy!”

Isaac is looking expectantly between the two of them, and Derek honestly can’t tell who he’s rooting for. Until a familiar voice calls out, “One hundred!”

“Oh no,” Derek can’t help but let escape, and Scott and Allison look inquiringly at Derek.

“My uncle,” Derek explains in a low whisper, as he looks over at Peter’s smug face.

Allison looks over at Isaac’s face, that’s fallen, then at Peter.

“One hundred and ten,” Allison says, and Isaac’s face perks up again.

“One hundred and fifty,” Peter counters again, and Laura points to their uncle and repeats the number.

Scott is digging in his wallet, counting the amount he has. He bites his lip before calling out, “One sixty!”

Then he hushes to Allison and Derek, “The date itself is going to turn out to be quite the cheap affair, if they keep upping the price like this.” Derek almost feels sorry for him, because the disappointment on his face is plain to see.

“Two hundred!” Peter calls out again, and Allison and Scott groan in disappointment.

“Quite the bidding war going on here!” Laura announces joyously, even though Derek suspects she’d rather spare Isaac from a date with their uncle as well.

“Not to push you or anything, but if you care about Isaac, you might want to save him from a date with Peter,” Derek whispers apologetically at the two of them.

“I only have one eighty,” Scott says, frustrated.

“Is he that bad?” Allison asks Derek.

“He’s just… a pompous, egocentric ass, basically,” Derek says, and he feels a bit ruthless about badmouthing his own family this way, but he knows Isaac and Isaac is a good kid, and Peter would walk all over him. And besides, he saw the anticipation on Isaac’s face when Scott and Allison were bidding.

“We can always pool together?” Allison suggests to Scott, somewhat hesitantly.

“Wouldn’t that be…?” Scott grimaces.

“I’m okay with it if you are,” Allison says, keeping an eye on Laura, who is clearly stalling and giving them some time.

“We could…” Scott starts, thoughtfully, “We could divide up the dates? One for you, one for me, one together?”

Allison’s face spreads in a smile, and pools some of their money together.

“Three hundred!” Allison and Scott call out at the same time, linking their hands as they hold them up together.

“Three hundred!” Laura echoes, then cocks her head, “Together?”

“Yeah,” Scott beams, “If that’s allowed?”

“Uhm…” Laura hesitates, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She looks over at Isaac, whose face reveals his joy. “Sure it’s allowed!” Laura calls out, and Scott and Allison whoop in excitement. “Is three hundred the final offer, or is anyone bidding more?” Laura asks, leaving a pause for the guests to decide.

Peter’s face is twisted in a scowl, and Derek leans into Scott and Allison and whispers, “I think he’s beaten.”

And sure enough, no higher bid comes along, and Laura declares the joined bid the winner.

Scott and Allison are still shrieking in excitement as Laura starts announcing the next bachelor, who turns out to be Bobby Finstock, the Beacon Hills High Lacrosse Coach.

“Don’t forget, you promised Laura you’d bid,” Lydia says by way of introduction as she joins them, together with Boyd.

“Not on my old high school coach, I’m not,” Derek says, dead serious, and Lydia just grins before sipping at her drink.

Derek hasn’t forgotten he’s supposed to bid, it’s just that he’s feeling a bit conflicted about who to bid on. On the one hand, he thinks bidding on someone who doesn’t pique his interest at all is the safe bet. It’ll just be one evening, some meaningless chatting, and the whole thing is over. But every time he looks at the row of bachelors, his eyes linger on Stiles just a little bit longer, and _damn_ …

“Bids start at forty dollars, guys!” Laura calls out, “And don’t forget, sporty people have stamina!”

Coach Finstock beams, as half the crowd groans and half laugh at Laura’s remark.

There’s a young girl that shouts out for one hundred dollars, and the Coach immediately groans and says, “Oh God, not you, Greenberg!” But the girl – _Greenberg_ – just smiles through her full lips and waves her handful of cash around.

“Come on!” Coach Finstock insists, addressing a woman who’s standing close to the stage. “Melissa?”

“Oh my God,” Lydia laughs in a hush, towards Scott, “He’s begging your Mom to bid for him!”

Scott buries his face in his hands, but when Derek looks over at the woman who is Scott’s mother – he can see the resemblance now – it looks like Scott has nothing to worry about. Melissa is shaking her head apologetically at the Coach, while Greenberg is still grinning extravagantly at Finstock.

“Your Mom’s saving her money for the Sheriff,” Boyd says matter-of-factly, but is met with a sputter of surprise from Scott.

“Oh come on, Scott,” Allison smiles, “Those two have been holding a torch for each other since forever.”

“Mom and Stiles’ Dad?” Scott asks in astonishment.

“You’d be brothers,” Lydia says, and a smile spreads over Scott’s face at the thought.

“And Greenberg has the winning bid!” Laura calls out then, while the Coach groans profusely and Greenberg lets out an excited yelp.

Derek excuses himself from the group for a second, asking if he needs to bring drinks for anyone else as he wanders over to the bar.

“Next up is Tina!” Laura announces behind him, “And there’s no messing with this Sheriff’s Deputy!”

“A rum ‘n coke, please,” Derek asks the bartender, then turns towards the stage while his drink is being made - and he briefly contemplates a bid - as he hears Peter make a first bid again.

The woman on stage – dark, with a pretty, round face – smiles at him. Eventually though, it’s Chris Argent that outbids everyone. The Deputy, Tina, doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Looks like Dad has a date,” Allison says, as Derek reaches them again with his drink in hand, and it’s only then that Derek puts two and two together and realizes Allison is an Argent. Derek knows the Argents from when he was still in high school, and he briefly went out with Chris’ sister. Until she turned out to be just a little too special brand of crazy for him to deal with.

“Parents dating is weird,” Lydia frowns.

Laura’s old friend Caitlin is up for bid, and even though Derek knows full well that he promised Laura he’d bid, and the fact that he knows Caitlin well enough to know she wouldn’t be insufferable during dinner, he lets the bid pass along.

“And now we get a chance to see who’s more popular,” Laura smiles enthusiastically, “Because we have father and son here!”

Derek inhales sharply as he knows Stiles’ auction is coming up closer and closer, and he still hasn’t bid on anyone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are extremely lucky to be able to present to you our very own Sheriff of Beacon Hills, John Stilinski!” Laura goes on. And there is no way Derek is bidding on Stiles’ father though.

There’s an actual whoop that goes through the audience, and the Sheriff ducks his head, flushed, as Stiles yells out, “Hell yeah!”

People laugh, and two women – both with brown curly hair and glasses – immediately start their own little bidding war against each other. They’re obviously friends, despite the way they keep shoving at each other playfully and sticking out their tongues at the other each time one of them places a higher bid. Derek even believes he hears a “fartface” thrown around, and people all around are laughing at the enthusiasm of the two girls.

But it seems like Boyd was right after all, because Melissa manages to silence the two girl with one whopping bid of two hundred and fifty dollars. And if Derek were the romantic kind, he might say he was a bit moved by the way the Sheriff’s eyes light up at Melissa’s bid, as if the heavens just opened up for him.

“Say hello to your new daddy,” Lydia says to Scott, teasingly.

“She could do a hell of a lot worse,” Scott says, as Stiles heartily pats his father on the shoulder.

“Time for me to get my wallet out,” Lydia says, and sure enough...

“Now ladies and gents, you really shouldn’t miss this,” Laura says, her arm swung over Stiles’ shoulder, “Our very own Stiles Stilinski, yours to date starting at forty dollars!”

Stiles looks a mix of nerves and anticipation, and his eyes definitely seek out Lydia’s.

“Unless…” Lydia mutters, nudges Derek with her elbow and fixes him with a stare.

“What?” Derek frowns, and when he looks over at the stage, he can see Stiles definitely start to panic.

He’s staring at Lydia with a look that could kill, then starts gesturing at Scott, who leans towards Lydia and says, “Uhm, Lydia? Did you…?”

“Not now, Scott,” she answers, her eyes never once leaving Derek’s.

“But…” Scott protests, looking back over at Stiles, who is all but losing his mind on the stage.

Lydia crosses her arms in front of her as she turns completely towards Derek, and arches her eyebrow. Derek’s eyes flitter from her to the stage, to Stiles’ now miserable face, and Derek sighs heavily before he finally calls out, “Fifty!”

Stiles nearly slumps down in relief, as Lydia looks at him approvingly, which Derek takes as a clue that she and Stiles are definitely not dating, because Lydia doesn’t look the sort to let someone else date her boyfriend without a fight.

“Well, well, my brother is finally throwing himself in the game as well,” Laura says, making Derek groan at the unprofessionalism. “Do we have a higher bid?”

“One hundred,” Lydia calls out then, and Stiles throws up his hands in the air, as he rolls his eyes.

“What?” Derek looks at her, because honestly, didn’t she just _want_ him to bid on Stiles?

“Stiles definitely deserves more money than fifty bucks,” she says as she purses her lips.

Derek’s hand twitches inside his pocket, Laura looks over at the crowd expectantly, and Stiles… well, Stiles is gaping at Derek with his mouth open, and he really really shouldn’t because it looks simply sinful.

“Not gonna let yourself get outbid after one try, are you?” Allison smirks at Derek, and he knows she’s just trying to bait him, but damn if he isn’t tempted.

“Laura made me promise I’d win a date,” Derek mutters under his breath.

“You’re already at two dates,” Lydia says, “ _If_ you see this through.”

Laura’s friends are the worst, Derek decides, as they’re all watching him expectantly.

“Fine,” he sighs, before calling out, “One hundred and fifty dollars!”

Laura nearly shrieks, and after a few moments of silence, she declares him the winner. Stiles does a fistpump in the air, which makes Derek grin a little, but then Stiles looks over at him, and the look in his eyes is quite hard to read.

Derek swallows hard, and he quietly wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

He’s still wondering about it when Lydia and a guy named Danny win themselves a double date with the twins that are also up for bid.

“Well, it seems like we all have our dates,” Lydia says triumphantly, “How about another drink?” 

Derek looks over at the stage again, where Laura continues the rest of the auction, and his eye lands on Stiles again, who is goofing around with Erica.

“Yeah, I think I could use another one,” Derek says, as they all head over to the bar.

The auction continues, and people seem to be in a generous mood overall, so Derek is pretty confident they can call it a success.

The bids and individual donations gain them close to $6000, and that’s not counting the proceeds from the bar. Laura is giddy with joy when she finally gets off the stage, and immediately falls into Derek’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you, baby brother,” she laughs as she squeezes him tight.

“You did all the work,” Derek says, frowning, but he’s holding on tight as well.

“No,” she says, “You actually got a date!”

Derek snorts, pointedly refuses to look to his side, where Stiles is joining Scott and the rest.

“For the wolves,” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” Laura sniggers, but then Erica is running up to her, all flailing arms and excited yells about the success of the evening, and oh God, they even start _howling_.

Derek takes that as his cue to grab his drink and go find some fresh air outside.

TBC

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Derek has won two dates with Stiles in the bachelor auction, they go out for the first time. But the date doesn't exactly go according to plan...

“I sincerely hate you,” Stiles says as he finally catches up with Lydia near the bar.

“Why?” Lydia asks, all innocently and sweet, “Because I got you a date? An _actual_ date?”

“With a Yeti!” Stiles calls out, indignant, “That dude hasn’t shaved in, like, _forever_!”

“Come on, Stiles,” Erica says, sympathetically, “Derek just came back from Alaska. He was saving wolves and shit! Give the guy a break.”

Stiles sighs, because damn, okay, maybe he feels a little bit bad for talking about Derek this way. After all, Erica is right, he _was_ doing pretty cool stuff out there in Alaska. And his priority probably wasn’t shaving. And Stiles knows that he’s exaggerating anyway.

“I bet he’s hot underneath all that hair, even,” Erica says, winking at Stiles.

“It’d take a year of digging to get to the surface,” Stiles mutters, but he gives Erica a smile anyway. “Typical me, to get the hobo hipster to bid on me. He’ll probably want to eat tofu nuggets or something.”

“Dude, you make your Dad eat veggie burgers,” Scott shakes his head at him.

“I’m only trying to take care of him!” Stiles says, defensive, “I don’t eat the damn things myself.”

“You’re so superficial,” Lydia sighs dramatically.

“Oh right, and you bid on that twin because of his muscled… what? Vocabulary?” Stiles counters, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Derek seems to have a nice… vocabulary as well though,” Lydia grins, tilting her head, and Stiles can’t really deny that either, because damn, the guy looks fit. Grumpy and moody, but fit.

***

Stiles groans as Scott drops him off at the restaurant where he’s supposed to meet Derek, since Stiles’ jeep is in for repairs.

“Dude, this restaurant is fancy as hell,” Stiles says, looking from the facade of the restaurant down at his attire and suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed.

“Yeti’s got expensive taste,” Scott says, with a smirk.

“Don’t mock my pain,” Stiles shoots back, then starts looking around in the back of Scott’s car. “Do you have a tie in here?”

“Stiles, you look fine,” Scott says, slapping his hand away from rooting around the back seat, which Stiles takes as a ‘no’.

He straightens his collar a bit, flattens down some creases on his shirt, as he heaves a sigh.

“Go! You don’t want to be late,” Scott insists, all but pushing Stiles out of the car.

He waves goodbye to Scott, then takes in a deep breath before entering the restaurant. The hostess shows him to his table in the back of the restaurant, where Derek is already seated.

Derek, who _still_ hasn’t shaved.

“Rocking that look, man,” Stiles says awkwardly as he’s taking his place opposite Derek, who _is_ wearing a tie.

“Sorry, I…” Stiles says, smoothing his hand over his chest, where his tie _would have been_ , “I didn’t realize this place would be so fancy.”

“That’s fine,” Derek says, then adds, “Laura recommended this place.”

Stiles waits a beat, because it seems like there’s some more information that should follow, but Derek just stays silent, inspecting his glass of water in front of him. Stiles just nods then, looks around the place, taking in the romantic mood lights, the soft but undisturbing music, the candles on the table, and he feels _wildly_ out of place.

“So what’s good to eat in this joint, huh?” Stiles says after an awkward silence, looking expectantly at Derek.

“Oh, I ordered a tasting menu to share,” Derek says, scratching at his jaw.

“Heh,” Stiles says, shifting in his seat, “What are the odds of there being curly fries on there, huh?”

“I don’t…” Derek starts, wavering off.

“Never mind,” Stiles says, shaking his head, “I was only joking.”

“Ah,” Derek says, his mouth shutting with a click.

“Though curly fries are the definition of haute cuisine, you know,” Stiles tries with a smile, and he launches himself in a monologue about the awesomeness of curly fries, which gets very little to no response from Derek.

Stiles resists the urge to sigh; after all, the guy did pay to take Stiles out on this date. Just when he’s trying to think of another topic to talk about - because seriously? Does Derek just not talk _at all_? - the waiter gets there with their selection of plates.

“Thank you,” Derek smiles politely at the waiter as he leaves, and really? It’s the _waiter_ he smiles at, and not Stiles?

Although Stiles suspects that maybe he can’t _see_ half the time Derek smiles, because it’s hidden behind the enormous wilderness growing out of his face.

“Looks nice,” Derek says, inspecting the food on the plates.

Stiles arches an eyebrow, and tries to find something in there he can define.

“What’s this?” Stiles asks, awkwardly, pointing towards the side of the plate.

“It’s a poached breast of Anjou pigeon,” Derek says, as he picks up an oyster.

“Who eats pigeon?” Stiles asks, his voice down to a whisper.

“Have you ever tried it?” Derek asks, his eyebrow arched.

“Why would I do that?” Stiles says, eyeing his plate like there’s a risk some of the food will spontaneously explode in his face or something.

“It’s actually very good,” Derek says, “I mean, you eat other poultry, don’t you?”

Stiles inadvertently barks out a laugh at the thought of tofu nuggets, then coughs to cover it up. Derek eyes him once, then gets back to his plate. Stiles takes a sip of his wine - thank God the wine is good - and spends about an hour on one piece of orange braised endive while he talks and talks about college and Scott and his Dad and lacrosse to cover up the fact that he’s hardly touching any of the food.

“Not a fan?” Derek asks eventually, nodding towards the food as he kind of cuts Stiles off in the middle of an exposition about the history of male circumcision.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, setting his fork down on the side of his plate with a clank. “I guess I like my food… identifiable?”

“You’re not even giving it a try,” Derek says, his voice a whispered hush.

“Sure I am!” Stiles says, plastering on a cheerful smile as he scoops up some of the black truffle and mushroom risotto on his fork and enthusiastically shoves it in his mouth. It’s not… too bad, he guesses. Until the aftertaste of the truffles kicks in and he has to take a big swig of his wine to wash it down.

“At least you like the wine,” Derek says, and he looks so damn disappointed that it actually makes Stiles feel bad.

Maybe Derek really did think Stiles would appreciate the fancy wining and dining? After all, this place must be costing him a fortune, and that’s on top of what he already paid for the auction! Maybe Derek’s just… socially inept, because he’s hardly said three words all evening? Of course, that kind of just makes him incredibly boring. Stiles is doing his best to keep the conversation going, but damn, Derek is giving him _nothing_.

Stiles is sure that Derek is used to surviving on his looks - because yes, he can sort of see the good looks underneath all that scruff - and he doesn’t actually _have_ to speak to pique an interest, dammit.

Dessert is actually not too bad, or maybe Stiles has had the right amount of wine in the meantime for his taste buds to accommodate to this place. He feels slightly buzzed, but sober enough to realize that neither of them are having the time of their lives. So Stiles isn’t entirely disappointed when the check comes along.

Derek is already taking out his card when Stiles suggests, “You know, I can pay for my part if you want.”

Derek looks up at him abruptly, actually looking a bit offended.

“I mean, this place can’t be cheap,” Stiles adds, hesitantly.

“I bid on you, Stiles,” Derek says, shoving his bank card in with the check. “I took you to this place, so I’m paying for your dinner.”

“Okay, I just…” Stiles says, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“I appreciate the offer,” Derek says, even though Stiles can clearly tell he doesn’t, “But this is my treat. I wouldn’t feel right to let you pay for half.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, somewhat subdued. “Thanks, man. I mean… ‘s nice.”

Derek smiles at him, and it’s a kind of ironic smile, because Stiles is sure that Derek knows the evening wasn’t all that nice, but Stiles can’t help himself from smiling back.

“Ready to go?” Derek asks when the check is taken care of, and Stiles nods and they walk towards the door in silence.

When Stiles stays standing on the pavement instead of walking to the parking lot, Derek asks, “Your car?”

“Scott dropped me off,” Stiles says, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’m supposed to call him to come and pick me up again. My Jeep caved on me. It’s at the garage.”

“I can drive you home,” Derek suggests, although he seems somewhat unsure at the offer.

“Nah, that’s fine, I can…” Stiles says, waving around his phone as an indication that he’ll get home.

“Come on,” Derek nudges his head towards the parking lot, “You’ll be home a lot faster.”

“Okay, uh… thanks,” Stiles says, following Derek to his car.

Maybe Derek isn’t the worst, after all? Even though he’s pretty sure there won’t be a second date, and it’s not like he had a delicious free meal out of this date either - free, yes. Delicious, no - so all in all the evening was kind of a bust.

And Stiles is pretty sure he’ll probably never go out with someone as handsome as Derek again, yes, even when he’s disguised as a hobo hipster. There’s definitely the physique that’s undeniable, even underneath the smart shirt and tie. And Stiles has to admit he’s been trying to figure out exactly what kind of eye color is hiding underneath those long eyelashes all evening. Not to mention the teeth, and -

Stiles isn’t exactly sure what makes him go for it. Maybe it’s the thought that surely the evening can’t get any worse anyway. And so when Derek is fishing for his keys in his jacket pocket, Stiles rounds the car and he kind of takes Derek by surprise. Their noses bump as Stiles leans in abruptly, and Derek’s lips part slightly in shock as Stiles presses his against them.

And Stiles thinks maybe he needs to review his idea of things not being able to get any worse, because oh my God, they’re even bad at _this_? But then Derek huffs as Stiles pulls away a little, and he clasps his hand at the nape of Stiles’ neck and pulls Stiles in properly this time. There are no bumpy noses or clashing teeth, and _fuck_... They _do_ know how to do this.

Derek slots his lips over Stiles’, determined, as his hand reaches to curl around Stiles’ waist. Stiles gladly lets himself get pulled close to Derek, eagerly nipping at Derek’s lips. He’s glad he’s not actually drunk, though, because he wouldn’t want to miss the way Derek drags his lips over Stiles’, the slightly rough tickle of the beard scratching at his mouth. And when the tip of Derek’s tongue slides over the seam of Stiles’ lips, Stiles opens up eagerly, not even resisting a muffled groan as Derek’s fingers tighten and dig into his waist.

He brings up his arms, swinging them around Derek’s neck, holding him close. For a man who doesn’t use a lot of words, Derek sure does know how to use his lips, and his tongue, and _holy fuck_ , Stiles thinks he might be at risk of getting weak in the knees. Either way, Derek’s hands are firmly around him, holding him up, as his tongue explores every inch of Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles keenly gives as good as he gets.

He holds back a grunt as Derek tilts his head, nipping little kisses across Stiles’ jawline, and okay, Stiles takes back everything he ever said about beards _because beards are awesome_ , beards are a _must_ from now on, the way Derek is all but rubbing his face against Stiles’ cheek, leaving deliciously prickling teases all over Stiles’ jaw. His skin feels like it’s tingling, and it’s not a far stretch to start thinking about how Derek’s beard could leave fantastic stubble burn all over Stiles’ body.

Stiles _does_ grunt at that, it may even come out whimpering, but he doesn’t care. He has suffered through the most boring dinner for this, but the way Derek kisses makes up for it all. Stiles can’t help himself and bites playfully at Derek’s jaw, before capturing Derek’s lips again and deepening the kiss. Derek makes a delightful humming sound as he presses Stiles up against the side of the car, plastering his entire body against Stiles’.

Derek’s lips are surprisingly soft, and Stiles can’t resist running his tongue over them. Derek huffs out a laugh, warm breath falling on Stiles’ skin, before he nuzzles his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck. Stiles lets out a long, happy sigh, as he tilts his head back and tries to catch his breath, cool air falling down on his face, in stark contrast with the warm face pressed underneath his jawline. They stay like that for a little while, clinging on to each other, until Derek rubs his hands over Stiles’ sides before pulling back slightly.

“I was gonna take you home,” Derek says, the edge of his mouth tugging upward.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, nodding, as he swallows away the hot flash that runs over him.

Derek’s hands slip slowly away from his sides, and Stiles tries not to mourn their loss. Or the loss of those lips on his mouth, of that _fucking_ beard against his skin.

As he goes around to the other side of the car and slips in his seat, he resists the urge to make a joke about Derek ‘finally getting his money’s worth’ or something, because he thinks making it sound like he’s a prostitute is probably not the best way to go. And yet Stiles can’t think of anything else, besides wanting to continue what they started, but Derek doesn’t say a word as he backs out of the parking lot, and Stiles isn’t exactly sure what has happened.

Other than the instructions to Stiles’ house, the ride is silent, and Stiles tries not to concentrate on the fact that he can still feel the burn on his skin. When they finally get there, Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is expecting him to lean in and kiss him goodnight, and Derek’s face is a closed book, giving him - yet again - nothing.

In the end, Stiles just bites back a sigh, hurries out an awkward, “Well, thanks for the evening,” and more or less rushes out of the car and into the house.

He bangs his head against the door a few times, after he closes it and hears Derek’s car drive away.

***

Stiles throws himself down on his bed with a heavy sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, before picking his phone out of his pocket and dialing Scott’s number.

“Hey, need me to come pick you up?” Scott asks as he answers the phone.

“Nope,” Stiles says, letting the “p” pop between his lips, “Mister Boring drove me home.”

“Oh?” Scott asks, and Stiles thinks he can hear him smile - the bastard.

“Oh my God, Scotty,” Stiles launches himself in a whine, “This guy was a total snoozefest! I don’t want to go out with him again, I don’t care how much money he spent on those wolves.”

“ _His_ wolves, even,” Scott snorts.

“Exactly!” Stiles says, toeing off his shoes as he makes himself a little bit more comfortable on the bed. “He did it for his sanctuary. Not to go out on a date with me!”

“Was it that bad?” Scott asks, and there’s a sympathetic ring to his voice now.

“It was so awkward, you have no idea,” Stiles says, subconsciously rubbing at his jaw, “The guy barely said two words to me all evening! I kept trying to get something out of him, _anything_.  What, did he lose his ability to speak in Alaska? Along with his ability to use a razor, because Scott, I swear, he still looked like a hobo! Even in this really snooty, snobby restaurant. I mean, I couldn’t even order my own dish, he’d done it for me!”

“Oh, that’s a mistake…” Scott winces.

“I know, right?” Stiles says, “I swear to God, I can’t even believe he’s related to Laura! She’s so perky, and he… The dude does nothing but scowl and oh my God, I already felt so uncomfortable in that place. Why did you let me go in there without a tie?”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Scott laughs.

“You could’ve outbid him!” Stiles laughs back, because he knows Scott is aware he’s only joking.

“Dude, I paid a fortune on my own date already,” Scott reminds him.

“Oh yeah, that’s true,” Stiles says, “How’s that working out, by the way?”

“Well Allison is taking him out tomorrow,” Scott says with a sigh, “And then on Saturday, I get to go out with him alone. And next week, we’re all going together.”

“Oh man, isn’t that going to be super awkward, what with you and Allison having dated and all?” Stiles asks, wincing.

“I don’t know,” Scott says, but Stiles can hear a bit of the hesitation in his voice. “I mean, we’re cool now, we’re friends.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, teasing, dragging out the word, “There’s another way you can make this work between the three of you…”

“I don’t even want to know, Stiles!” Scott says, with a huff.

“Are you sure?” Stiles smirks, because he lives to tease Scott, “Those are some pretty beautiful people you’re dating, Scotty.”

“I’m not _dating_ them,” Scott protests.

“But think of the possibilities!” Stiles laughs, swinging his arm over his head on the bed.

“And never be able to look them both in the eye again?” Scott asks, “No, seriously. Let’s not…” He lets out another sigh. “So how are you going to solve the Derek problem?”

Stiles recognizes a change of subject if he sees one, but he can’t help himself but take the bait.

“I don’t know, man,” Stiles sighs, “I was thinking next time he should just take me home and let me sit on his face, forget about dinner and all that crap.”

“Wait, didn’t you just say you didn’t want to go out agai-” Scott starts, then stops a beat, “Hold on, did you just say you want to _sit on his face_?”

“Scott, I swear, he’s the worst, but damn he knows how to kiss,” Stiles says with an exasperated sigh, “I kinda want to get all up on that.”

“How does a horrible date end up in kissing?” Scott asks, bemused.

“I don’t know,” Stiles says, pondering, “I guess I kind of…” He licks his lips, remembering the feel of Derek’s on them. “I figured I had nothing to lose, so I just… went for it?”

“Wow,” Scott breathes out.

“And I swear to God, he’s the best kisser ever.” He pinches his eyes shut before going on. “And that fucking beard, it just… the scratching, ugh, I can’t.”

“You remember how to speak in full sentences, right?” Scott teases, laughing.

“You don’t even know, Scott,” Stiles continues, “That kiss was heavenly. So, you know, if he doesn’t actually talk, or makes that frowning, sour face at me… I thought me sitting on his face seems like the best solution?”

“Oh, you’re the worst,” Scott groans, “You don’t even like him.”

“Nobody likes him, Scott!” Stiles throws out, “He doesn’t actually _talk_ to people! I bet he spent six months in Alaska not uttering one single word! The _wolves_ probably judge him for not talking!”

“He was nice enough to bid on you though!” Scott counters, and bless Scott for always seeing the best in people.

“I bet Lydia made him, or something,” Stiles groans, twisting around and burying his face in his pillow.

“You overestimate the powers of Lydia,” Scott says, “She may have given him a little push.”

“Hah! See!” Stiles says, brusquely sitting up. “Dude doesn’t even like me.”

“You don’t like him!” Scott calls out.

“Yeah, but…”

“He kissed you,” Scott says simply.

“I kissed him,” Stiles counters.

“But if it was so heavenly, I’m assuming he must’ve kissed back?” Scott says, enquiringly.

Stiles just sighs, letting himself fall back on the bed as he thinks about Derek. Derek’s hands sliding over his waist. Derek’s weight pressing him against the side of the car. Derek’s beard scratching at his face. Derek’s tongue mapping out his mouth.

“You’re picturing it again, aren’t you?” Scott asks, put upon.

“It was so hot, Scott,” Stiles says with a suffering exhale.

“You know what? I’m gonna go,” Scott says, warily, “Before you start popping a boner or something.”

“Whatever,” Stiles says, “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he hears Scott say, before he throws his phone down on his nightstand.

“Fucking Derek…” Stiles grunts, before slipping out of his pants.

***

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phone call between Derek and Stiles doesn't go exactly the way Derek expected it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter of the bunch, so to make up for that, I'll post the next one very soon.

“And, and?” Laura asks curiously, the second he steps into her office.

“And what?” Derek asks innocently, as he plops himself down on one of the chairs, even though he knows full well what she’s talking about.

“The date!” Laura all but screams in his face.

“Oh, how was your date with the Deputy?” Derek asks, knowing it will probably drive her crazy.

“Derek!” she calls out, annoyed, and her head looks like it’s about ready to explode, so he takes pity on her.

“I don’t think he likes me much,” Derek says, shrugging.

“Oh my God,” Laura sighs, “Please tell me you didn’t scowl at him all evening?”

“I do not - ” Derek starts, but then he shakes his head. “He doesn’t stop talking, Laura. Like, ever.”

“He’s fun!” Laura says, enthusiastically.

“He gives me a freaking headache!” Derek says, a little too vehemently.

Laura tilts her head to the side a bit, and just gives him this look…

“You like him,” she says, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction on her face.

“The date was a nightmare, alright?” Derek says, sidestepping her statement. “The restaurant was way too fancy for us. Why did you recommend that place anyway? I tried to fit in, but he was clearly uncomfortable. He hardly ate a thing!”

“I thought it’d be cute,” Laura says, shrugging. “You could bond over how out of place you’d be, and it could be like an inside joke?”

“On a first date?” Derek utters, running his hands through his hair, “ _Jesus_ , Laura…”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Laura tries, an empathetic look on her face.

“Did I mention the part where he hardly touched any of the food? Because I got the fucking sharing menu, like you suggested,” Derek says, “Or the part where he kept trying to fill uncomfortable silences by babbling incessantly? Which was _all the time_! Or maybe the part where he offered to pay for half the check?”

“Ouch,” Laura winces. “That’s not good.”

“He couldn’t wait to get out of there,” Derek sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Laura says, rounding her desk to come and put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “But the next date can’t be worse then, can it?”

Derek starts shaking his head. “I can’t do that to him again, Laura. This is like pulling teeth.”

“Derek, you have to!” Laura insists, “That was the agreement of the auction! You can’t ditch him before a second date if you’ve already paid for it! Imagine how that would make him feel?”

“Relieved, probably,” Derek huffs.

“Or like he’s not even worth a second date,” Laura counters, and goes straight to Derek’s heartstrings.

“Yeah, okay…” Derek says, sighing deeply. He should’ve just bid on Laura and avoided this whole mess.

***

Derek spends almost an entire afternoon staring at his phone, walking away from it with a huff to go do some chores, only to come back to it each time and continue his staring contest.

In the end, he feels like he has no other choice but to pick it up and dial Stiles’ number.

In the five times that it rings, Derek considers hanging up about twenty times, before Stiles picks up.

“Heeeeeeeey,” Stiles says, and fuck, it’s awkward already.

“Hi Stiles,” Derek says, and he absolutely hates how the sound of Stiles’ voice makes him think back to that kiss.

The kiss he hasn’t told Laura about. The kiss he has absolutely no idea what it meant or how it even happened. The kiss that was intense enough to almost get him hard just thinking about it. _That kiss._

“So hey,” Derek says, nodding to himself, “I was thinking, you know… about how we still have that second date, and uh… Well, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to… I mean, if you don’t, that’s fine. Totally cool. But since I paid, and - ” Derek winces, regretting his poor choice of words. “Shit, you know what I mean?”  

“Hey, look, dude, it’s fine,” Stiles starts, his voice somewhat exasperated. “You don’t have to keep talking, or whatever it is you’re doing. I mean, look, if you don’t want to do this again, it’s fine. I get it, okay? I understand. I didn’t exactly think it was a success either. S’cool.”

Derek is not entirely sure whether he feels relieved or disappointed at Stiles basically brushing him off, but either way, he’s not going to let it show.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Derek says, biting the inside of his cheek. What else was he expecting anyway? He clears his throat.  “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah, man,” Stiles says, nonchalantly, “Totally. Forget about dinner and all. My Dad will have the night shift this weekend, so I have the place all to myself. So why don’t you just come over and we’ll blow off some steam?”

And if Derek didn’t know it was possible to choke on nothing but thin air, he sure does now.

“Wha?” Derek coughs away his surprise, because did Stiles actually just suggest…?

“You know, sex. Right?” Stiles says casually, and Derek just listens, his mouth fallen open. “I mean, you’ve done it before, right?” Stiles goes on, “Even with your less than advanced social skills. I bet you don’t even need them. If the ending of our date is anything to go by, we should just go for it. No need to talk, so it’s perfect. I bet we’ll both have a lot more fun that way anyway.”

Derek feels like he has a brick in his stomach, the way Stiles is so damn casual about blowing him off for a next date, and about the way the last one ended. Maybe it wasn’t anything special at all? Not to Stiles, anyway. Though the kiss must’ve been good enough for Stiles to suggest… this.

“You still there?” Stiles asks, and Derek realizes he hasn’t given an answer yet.

“Yeah, uh…” Derek starts, hesitantly, “I was just… Uhm…”

“Hey, you don’t have to decide right now, okay?” Stiles says, and Derek is resisting the urge to hang up the phone, because as much as he wants to just say yes, he’s also cringing at the way it almost seems like a casual business transaction. “I mean,” Stiles goes on, “You know where to find me, right? Just think it over.”

Derek is still stuck on finding his words, but he manages to say a quick, “bye” when Stiles ends the conversation and hangs up.

***

It’s about a six mile stretch from Derek’s place to the sanctuary, but Derek needs the run to clear his head, to push his body hard enough to not think about Stiles fucking Stilinski and his offer. Every few minutes or so, he changes his mind on whether or not to accept, and every time he does, he speeds up a little bit more.

He keeps reliving that kiss in his head, the way they just kind of perfectly matched in that moment, when everything else seemed to be a disaster between them. Derek isn’t used to casual sex, in fact he doesn’t even think he’s ever done it before. But then again, it’s not as if his past relationships have been so brilliant either. Maybe he should just go for it? Maybe he’s not fit for anything more anyway? And this is obviously the only part Stiles is interested in. He isn’t at risk of actually hurting Stiles if this goes wrong, because Stiles wouldn’t be emotionally involved anyway.

There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head asking him about his own emotional investment, about the risk of _him_ getting hurt, but he’s pushing it away as he speeds up a little bit more, the last long stretch to the sanctuary.

He bypasses the offices and goes straight out back, to the wolf barracks, where there’s a water tap outside. He’s splashing the water copiously on his face, dripping down on his shirt - it’s drenched with sweat because of the run anyway - when Laura and Isaac exit one of the barracks.

“Hey Derek!” Isaac smiles, heading straight towards the offices.

Derek manages a friendly wave, hunched over with his hands on his knees, still catching his breath.

“Throw me one of those water bottles, please?” Laura calls out to Isaac when he’s by the door, and a few seconds later, he’s tossing a plastic bottle at Laura before disappearing into the building again.

“So what’s up?” Laura asks, handing him the drink which he accepts gratefully.

He just shakes his head as he shrugs, chugging nearly the entire bottle of water down in one go. He hands the empty bottle back to Laura, and hops down on his hands and feet to start doing some push-ups.

“Whoa, wait, what are you doing?” Laura asks, giving him a nudge on the shoulder.

“Push-ups,” Derek breathes out, swallowing hard as he squints his eyes shut for a second before he’s pushing himself up on his hands again.

“Yes, thank you, I can see that,” Laura huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “I can also see that you’re about ready to pass out, so knock it off.”

Derek snorts, and he’d be insulted if he didn’t actually feel the exhaustion seeping through his bones with every push-up.

“What the hell is going on?” Laura asks, frowning down at him.

“Stop it, Laur,” Derek breathes out as he ignores the wobble in his arms every time he pushes up again.

“Like hell I will,” Laura mutters, and before Derek knows it, Laura has turned the water hose on him and is spraying him all over.

“What the fuck?” Derek yells out, annoyed, as he flips around and sits back on his ass, his hands up in defense from the stream of water.

“Are we done with the whole macho ‘I’m pushing myself because I can’ routine now?” Laura asks, throwing down the hose.

“It’s called exercise and it’s generally viewed as healthy,” Derek bites back, but he hunches himself over his knees anyway, and makes no attempt to start up the push-ups again.

“Der, what is going on?” Laura asks, more softly this time.

Derek closes his eyes, rubs his hand over his hair from the back to the front to brush off the water. Laura sits down next to him, an expectant look on her face.

“I called Stiles,” Derek says eventually, and he hates the way his voice sounds.

“Aha,” Laura says, but waits for him to go on.

“I didn’t even get through making any kind of arrangements for a second date, before he completely blew me off for it,” Derek says, mustering a shrug.

“Oh, Der…” Laura whispers, sympathetically.

Derek bites his tongue for a second, contemplates telling the entire story to her.

“Then he suggested we just have sex instead,” Derek finally says.

There’s a beat of silence in the air, and then Laura blinks and says, “What?”

“Like, forget the dinner, forget the part where we actually _talk_ to each other,” Derek says, “Just… get in each other’s pants.”

“How did this happen?” Laura asks, bewildered.

“He kissed me,” Derek admits, looking at Laura hesitantly. “Before I drove him home from the restaurant. He kissed me.”

“And you’re telling me this _now_?” Laura all but yells as she jumps up to her feet, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

And yeah, this kind of reaction was to be expected, Derek guesses.

“Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it,” Derek says, defensive, “And it clearly wasn’t to him.” He shakes his head, adding, “And it wasn’t to me either. It came completely out of the blue. He… I don’t know, I don’t understand.”

“I thought you had such a lousy time?” Laura asks.

“We did!” Derek says, leaning back on his arms. “That’s what I’m trying to say. One minute he’s looking like he can’t wait to get the hell out of there, and the next he’s full on kissing me.”

“And now he wants…?” Laura lingers.

“Sex,” Derek says, firmly.

Laura huffs out a laugh. “Go tiger.”

“It’s like he’s got multiple personalities or something,” Derek sighs.

“Oh come on,” Laura says, “He’s just looking for some action. Not everyone is a prude like you, Derek.”

“I’m not a prude,” Derek says.

“So what did you tell him?” she asks, regarding him carefully.

“I… Nothing,” Derek says, “He told me to think about it, to let him know.”

Laura ponders for a second, like she’s processing all the information.

“Look, clearly he finds you attractive and he’s looking for some fun.” Laura shrugs. “It’s up to you to decide if you do, too.”

Derek exhales sharply through his nose, wondering once again how the hell he got himself into this.

“When’s the last time you got laid, Derek?” Laura asks, even though Derek knows full well that Laura knows he hasn’t been dating in forever. So he just arches an eyebrow at her.

“The kiss, was it good?” she asks, a smirk on her face.

And he kind of hates himself for not being able to hide anything from Laura, because one look at his expression has Laura nearly beside herself with glee.

“ _That_ good, huh?” she grins.

“It was… yeah, it was pretty memorable,” Derek says, unable to keep a tiny smile off his face.

“Then maybe you’d like to explore that a little bit further?” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“Your interest in my lovelife is actually quite scary,” Derek deadpans.

“You _have_ no lovelife,” Laura counters, “But now there’s this really cute guy with adorable moles speckled all over his face that is actually willing to change all of that.”

“ _No_ ,” Derek stresses firmly, “He’s willing to change my _sexlife_.”

“Potato, potah-do,” Laura says, as she reaches out her hand to pull Derek up.

Derek clasps his hand in hers and gets up off the ground with a tired grunt.

And maybe Laura is right. Maybe he should just stop overthinking things, stop analyzing the whole situation to death, and just go for it? Maybe there’s nothing wrong with having sex with someone that he clearly finds attractive - and that finds him attractive too - without it having to lead to more? Without all these expectations and ideas of where a relationship _has_ to go, because… Who says it has to go anywhere? Why can’t it just be physical enjoyment? A nice evening that leaves them both satisfied, without making a big deal out of it?

And yeah, okay, he’s never actually done casual before, but that’s no reason to think he _can’t_. If he knows this going in? If he knows that Stiles isn’t expecting anything more, isn’t actually asking - or wanting - anything more? Then why shouldn’t he do this?

***

 TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is pleasantly surprised when Derek shows up at his door, with an answer for him.

Stiles is lounging on the couch, marathoning episodes of New Girl when the doorbell rings. He sighs, presses pause, and puts the bag of chips on the coffee table. He’s brushing crumbs off his shirt when he reaches the front door, and…

“Derek?” he says, surprised, as he opens the door.

“Hi,” Derek says gingerly. Derek, who is standing there in a tank top and running shorts. Derek, whose hair is sticking out, wet from sweat. Whose tank top looks drenched. Who is breathing heavily as he’s leaning his hands on his knees, hunched over. Derek, who is cleanly shaved.

“You ran here?” Stiles asks, and fuck if this weirdo doesn’t do it for him. Why is this the hottest thing he’s ever seen?

“Yeah, I was…” Derek nods, pointing towards the road. “I was on my way home from The Pack, and I thought maybe I’d make a little detour, stop by.”

“Make a little detour of about a mile,” Stiles says, and _Jesus_ , the most he’s moved today was from the couch to the fridge and Derek actually came _running_ here?

“I may be overdoing it a little today,” Derek admits, swallowing so hard Stiles can see his adam’s apple bob up and down.

“You want some water?” Stiles asks, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s throat.

“That’d be great, yeah,” Derek says, and when he makes no indication to come in when Stiles holds the door open for the second, Stiles just runs inside, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. He spots a Gatorade on one of the shelves, and grabs that too.

When he comes back outside, Derek is sitting down on the edge of the front porch, stretching out his calves. His legs are hairy, but not overly so, and nicely toned and muscled. And the way he’s leaning forward, stretching over them, his arm spread out to reach his ankle…

Stiles clears his throat and holds up the two bottles as Derek looks up. Derek reaches for the Gatorade, says, “Thanks” and gratefully starts to drink.

“So…” Stiles starts as he sits down on the porch next to Derek. “You shaved?”

Derek snorts, running a hand over his smooth jaw.

“Yeah. Thought it was time.”

“‘s nice,” Stiles says, trying hard not to stare too much, because yeah, it definitely does look nice. Now that he can actually see Derek’s face. And damn if he doesn’t have perfect cheekbones to go along with those stunning eyes, and then there’s that mouth…  

There’s another silence as Derek drinks the last of his Gatorade, and he finally seems to have caught his breath again.

“So this detour…?” Stiles starts, because someone has to make the first move here - although technically that might have been Derek, since he came all the way out to Stiles’ house.

“Yeah,” Derek says, and he’s nodding as if he actually answered a question, but…

“Wait, do you mean…?” Stiles asks, confused. Then maybe a little bit too enthusiastic, “Is that a yes to my indecent proposal?” Stiles had always wanted to say that to someone. And since he’s not here to impress anyone anymore, he can be as dorky as he wants. It’s not like Derek has any game, after all.   

It’s hard to tell if Derek is blushing from the conversation or the fact that he just ran from the sanctuary all the way here, but there’s definitely a slight color underneath that sheen of sweat.

“Yeah,” Derek says, nodding a little as he looks down at his feet, “Yes to that.”

Stiles thinks he’s about to burst with joy, because if that kiss was anything to go by, this is one matter they’re absolutely compatible on, and fuck, Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever slept with anyone this hot before. Not that he has a _lot_ of people to compare Derek to, but still… Derek’s shoulders are broad and muscled, and Stiles can’t wait to get his hands all over them. And over that narrowing waist, and Stiles bets that underneath that tank top are some rock hard abs too. Not to mention the way his face looks sculpted as if by freaking Leonardo himself.

“I mean, if you’re still…” Derek wavers, and there’s a tiny droplet of sweat that’s running down his temple and Stiles wonders why on earth that is so unbelievably arousing to him.  

“Yes!” Stiles calls out, a little too forcefully. “I mean, yeah, definitely.”

“Okay,” Derek nods again, pressing his lips tightly together.

“You free on Friday?” Stiles asks, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yeah, Friday works for me,” Derek says, rubbing his palms over his knees. The edge of his mouth curls up a bit as he looks down at himself and he adds, “I’ll make sure I’m a bit more presentable.”

“Dude, you look presentable to me,” Stiles says, and this time he doesn’t hide it when he gives Derek a once-over.

Derek shakes his head, and fuck, he actually _smiles_. “I’m disgusting, all sweaty, and…” he trails off, looking down at his clammy shirt.

“Hot as fuck,” Stiles blurts out, because he thinks that Derek isn’t actually fishing for compliments, no he’s actually quite uncomfortable about the way he’s sitting there, and how is that even possible?

Derek’s head snaps up at Stiles’ words, and he’s looking at Stiles with a soft anticipating smile on his face, and that’s all it takes for Stiles to lean over slightly, making his intentions clear. Stiles can tell that Derek hesitates for a second, his head jerking forward but then stopping and Stiles fears maybe he messed it up already. But then Derek leans all the way in after all, and presses his lips ever so lightly on Stiles’.

It’s a bit uneasy at first, and Stiles can clearly tell that Derek is trying to keep his perspiring body away from Stiles - he’s probably still under the impression that Stiles is actually iffy about a gorgeous sweaty body too close to him, and really? Does this guy not watch porn or something? - so Stiles just scoots over close to Derek, and fists his hand in Derek’s tank top to hold him near.

Derek freezes up a little, but Stiles just nudges Derek’s lips apart and deepens the kiss. He thinks maybe Derek always needs a little push in the right direction before loosening up, because Derek is finally in the game here, tongue sliding languidly but surely over Stiles’. His hand comes up to gently rest on Stiles’ hip, and Stiles hums his approval against Derek’s mouth.

Stiles is well aware that they’re sitting on the front porch of his father’s house, for all the neighbors to see, so he resists the urge to climb into Derek’s lap, no matter how hard he wants to. _Friday_ , he thinks. Surely he can wait until Friday.

Stiles drags his lips up against Derek’s, breathing in his scent, and Derek makes a little vibrating sound in the back of his throat that makes Stiles clasp his hand against Derek’s neck and pull him in closer. He bites down slightly on Derek’s bottom lip before hungrily deepening the kiss. He knows he’s making choked off satisfied noises, but he doesn’t even care. The way Derek’s tongue is mapping out his, the way Derek’s smooth skin feels under Stiles’ thumb as it rubs over his jaw…

Derek pulls away slightly, ducking his head down as he breathes heavily. Stiles’ lips brush along Derek’s temple, and he can’t help but let his tongue dart out and lick up the line of sweat trailing down. Derek’s hand squeezes his hip a little tighter.

“I should…” Derek starts, but then he tilts his head up again and crushes his lips against Stiles’ once more, groaning while he does it.

Stiles stops himself from asking Derek into the house, into his bedroom, into his bed, despite the fact that he’s half hard in his pants already. But Derek didn’t come here for that, not today, and Stiles doesn’t want to mess things up. Not to mention the fact that his father will probably be home in about an hour, and he can think of all kinds of ways that could end in disastrous awkwardness.

“If I don’t leave, I’ll never get home,” Derek whispers against his lips, and Stiles can feel the vibration tingling all the way down into his toes.

“Weak in the knees?” Stiles smiles, his forehead pressed against Derek’s.

Derek lets out a puff of laughter, nose brushing up against Stiles’ face.

“Or hard in other places?” Stiles adds, smirking, because apparently he has no shame or filter anymore, now that he’s not actually trying to impress Derek. He doesn’t need Derek to like him or find him funny, all he needs is for Derek to be in the mood for sex, and he highly doubts that’ll be a problem anymore.

To his surprise, Derek actually laughs though. It’s one of those put upon, groaning, ‘I can’t believe you actually said that’ laughs, but it’s a laugh nonetheless, and Stiles beams as he covers Derek’s lips with his once more. Derek lets his hand curl in the hairs at the back of Stiles’ neck, eagerly pushing Stiles’ lips open again, sliding his tongue through, and yeah, Stiles could definitely get used to this. There’s a surge of heat in the kiss before it slows down, and Derek nips at Stiles’ lips a few more times before breaking contact again and saying, “I really need to…”

His hand is still on the back of Stiles’ neck though, and Stiles contents himself to look into Derek’s eyes for a few seconds.

“Yeah…” he says eventually, and his skin feels suddenly cold when Derek removes his hand and pushes himself up off the porch.

“Think you’ll make it home?” Stiles asks, adding with a smirk, “Muscles not too cold?”

“I think you warmed them up enough,” Derek says, bouncing up and down from the tips to the balls of his feet a few times, getting himself ready for another run.

“I aim to please,” Stiles shrugs nonchalantly, and Derek just closes his eyes and shakes his head amusedly for a second.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Derek smile this often. It’s a good look on him.

“Bye, Stiles,” Derek says, a hint of the smile still lingering on his face.

“Bye,” Stiles says, winking at him before he watches Derek jog off his driveway and onto the sidewalk.

Stiles stays there on the porch until Derek has run all the way out of his line of sight.

***

Stiles plops down on the couch, and for a second he contemplates whether he should move up to his room and do something about the semi he’s sporting now that Derek has thoroughly kissed the breath out of him, but he just decides on letting it die down. He presses play on his DVD player again, but after about five minutes of watching he realizes he hasn’t paid attention to a single word that was said, and so he puts it on pause again as he reaches for his phone.

He’s too lazy to actually move, but his fingers are just long enough to slide the phone off the coffee table and into his hand.

“Guess who’s getting laid?” Stiles says by way of introduction when Scott answers the phone.

“What?” Scott asks, confused, and yeah, okay, Stiles can’t really blame him for it.

“I’m so totally getting laid this Friday, Scotty,” Stiles says, contently stretched out over the couch.

“I feel like I missed a few steps here,” Scott says, urging him to explain.

“Derek, man!” Stiles says, and he can’t keep the grin off his face.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Scott groans, “Don’t tell me you actually asked him if you could sit on his face?”

“Not in those words, _Jesus_ ,” Stiles laughs as he rolls his eyes.

“I thought you didn’t even like the guy?” Scott asks, confused.

“Nah, he’s not that bad,” Stiles says, off-hand.

“I thought you said he was boring and snooty and whatever!” Scott calls out.

“He just needs some loosening up, Scott,” Stiles says, then grins slyly, “I mean, that’s what I’m planning on doing to him on Friday anyway. Or the other way around, I’m flexible, you know that.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Scott groans exasperated, “Because you don’t understand the concept of ‘too much information’.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to hear how we totally just made out on the front porch?” Stiles asks, innocently.

“What are you doing, Stiles?” Scott asks, and he actually sounds concerned, “Are you actually dating him? You know he’s Laura’s brother, right? I mean, this isn’t some stranger you picked up in a bar.”

“As if I pick up a lot of strangers in bars anyway,” Stiles argues, “No, come on. He doesn’t want to date me. And I don’t want to date him. But we’re both single, and he’s really hot… what’s the harm in proposing a little fun? That’s all I did, Scott. I made him an offer, and he accepted.”

“I know, I just…” Scott sighs, “I don’t know. Once you’ve got your sights set on someone…”

“I got my sights set on sex,” Stiles says, because that’s all it is. “Sex with a really gorgeous guy who’s an awesome kisser. That’s it.”

“If you say so…” Scott says, but Stiles can tell he is less than thrilled by the idea.

“I say so,” Stiles says firmly, in the hopes of reassuring his friend. “He’s completely on board with this. We’re on the same page here. No surprises, okay?”

“Okay,” Scott says, softly. “Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry. No glove, no love,” Stiles jokes, even though he knows that’s not what Scott is saying.

“Yeah, that too,” Scott adds. “Think with more than just your dick, okay?”

“Lets talk about your dick instead,” Stiles laughs, because if he’s totally honest, he doesn’t want to overanalyze dick versus brain right now. This really shouldn’t be that complicated. Hot guy agrees to have sex with you, it’s a no-brainer. “Have you seen Isaac lately?”

“My dick is not seeing Isaac, thank you very much,” Scott answers, pointedly.

“Your dick would _like_ to see Isaac though,” Stiles teases, swinging his leg up on the back of the couch.

Scott grunts heavily. “Yeah, only I still have no clue if he’s interested in me, or in Allison.”

“To be honest, dude, I don’t think Isaac has a clue either,” Stiles says, sympathetically. “I think he’s pretty much hung up on both of you. You’ve got the whole tedious love triangle thing going on there, bro. Made worse by the fact that you have history with Allison. I mean… I only see one way this can end.”

“Heartache?” Scott supplies, sadly.

“No, man! Threesome!” Stiles calls out keenly. “Why do you always have to think so negatively?”

“Why do you always have to think about sex?” Scott counters.

“‘cause I sure as hell ain’t got a love life at the moment,” Stiles huffs.

“Says the man who’s getting laid on Friday,” Scott mutters.

“Did I tell you he shaved his beard?” Stiles asks, “Looks all baby-smooth now.”

“You realize you went from hating the beard, to liking the beard, to swooning over him having shaved, right?” Scott asks, snorting.

“I find it hilarious how you’re trying to apply reason to my horniness,” Stiles says instead, and he can’t help but wonder what the beard would’ve felt like scratching against the skin of his ass.

“When did you become all Don Juan anyway?” Scott asks, “I remember a few catastrophical attempts to pick up dates freshman year.”

“They weren’t that bad,” Stiles says, even though he’s cringing at the memory of it.

“Stiles, one guy actually kissed _me_ to make it clear he wasn’t interested in your pick-up lines,” Scott laughs.

“And you just can’t let that go, can you?” Stiles calls out, even though it was pretty hilarious that that was Scott’s first kiss with a guy.

“Sorry, buddy,” Scott says, his tone letting it be understood that he really isn’t sorry at all.

“I’ll have you know that I was scared shitless when I suggested my little proposal to Derek, alright?” Stiles admits, reluctantly, “I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.”

“Well, you must be improving your skills and all, what with him accepting,” Scott says.

“Yeah,” Stiles drawls out, satisfied.

“Or six months alone in Alaska has made him even hornier than you are,” Scott adds, like the little devil that he is.

“I hate you,” Stiles says, dramatically.

“Love you too, buddy,” Scott just answers cheerfully.

***

“Do I even want to know why you spent forever in the bathroom?” John asks, when Stiles appears in the hallway, one towel around his waist, the other drying off his hair.

Stiles tries not to blush - he especially hopes his Dad didn’t hear the trimmer buzz - and shrugs. “Can’t a guy want to be nice and clean? It’s called hygiene, Dad.”

“For a Friday evening spent being a couch potato, playing video games?” his Dad eyes him suspiciously.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?” Stiles asks, rubbing the towel over his wet hair.

“I might’ve been ready already if the bathroom had been free so I could brush my teeth,” John says casually, stepping into the steam-filled bathroom.

“Sorry,” Stiles mutters sheepishly, and he’s halfway into his bedroom when his father calls out again.

“You know you can just tell me if you have a date, right?”

“Da-ad,” Stiles whines, tossing the towel on his bed.

“I mean, that Hale kid isn’t a bad guy,” Stiles hears his father go on.

“He also isn’t a kid anymore,” Stiles replies, “And besides, who said anything about him?”

“It’s funny how you think I don’t talk to anyone in this town,” John says around his toothbrush, “Like our neighbors…”

And fuck, Stiles should’ve seen that coming. Nothing ever gets past his father unnoticed. Damn babbling neighbors.

“Mrs. Lubenfeld needs new glasses, you should know that,” Stiles deflects, staring at his underwear drawer.

“Mrs. Lubenfeld sits behind her window all day long with binoculars, you should know that,” John fires back at him, and then there’s a gross spitting sound.

Stiles sighs, still looking down at all the choices of underwear he has as if his life depends on it.

“How well do you know the Hales anyway?” Stiles asks, finally giving in.

“I was there after the fire happened,” his Dad says, now standing in the doorway of Stiles’ room. “I was a deputy.”

“He lost all his family, right?” Stiles asks, frowning, because he hasn’t actually talked to Derek about this. He’s heard about the fire, a long time ago, like everyone in town. But somehow it never actually crossed his mind again when being around Derek. It’s not like Derek ever brought it up either, though, so why does Stiles feel so guilty all of a sudden?

“His parents and little sister,” John nods, sadly. “It was quite the tragedy.”

“I bet,” Stiles says, sighing deeply, because he knows at least a little bit of what that feels like.

“I see Laura around quite a bit,” John says, “Derek seems to keep more to himself.”

“Yeah,” Stiles snorts, because that’s one way of describing Derek.

“Nice young man…” his father adds, breezily, as he disappears back into the hallway.

“Yeah,” Stiles says again, finally settling on a pair of simple black boxer briefs.

He hears the door to his father’s bedroom close with a click, knowing he’ll be changing into his uniform for his night shift. He looks at the clock. One hour. One hour until Derek comes over and he can get his hands all over him. Surely this is just what Derek needs too. Why else would he have agreed to this, right?

Stiles changes into a comfortable pair of jeans, but ones that he knows hug his ass just right. After all, there’s nothing wrong with displaying some of his… assets, right? He slips on a plain grey undershirt and is hesitating between two of his plaid shirts when his father walks by again, in uniform this time.

“Go with the green one,” he says off-hand, “Brings out your eyes.”

“That comment scares me, Dad,” Stiles yells after him when he walks down the stairs, but he goes for the green one after all.

“Apparently we Stilinski men have nice eyes,” his Dad calls up.

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, buttoning up the shirt when he comes to stand at the top of the stairs. “Who told you that? Melissa?”

His father simply smiles, and gives him a wave. “I’m off. Behave, okay?”

“Always,” Stiles says, and before his father walks out the door, he adds, yelling, “And be careful!”

“Always,” John echoes before shutting the door behind him, and Stiles finds himself in the house alone.

***

 TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek arrives at Stiles' for their "date".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explicit rating on the fic finally kicks in... :)

Derek thinks he’s had second thoughts about five times on the drive over to Stiles’ house, and yet he’s standing here anyway, in front of Stiles’ door, unable to walk away. He runs his hand through his hair one more time, before ringing the doorbell.

The sight that greets him when Stiles opens the door is… breath-catching. Stiles is standing there, grinning widely at him. His hair is unkempt, and yet every strand looks perfect. The green of his shirt does wonders for his face, and Derek is afraid to even look at those jeans if Stiles were to turn around on him, and he’s barefoot, perfect toes peeking out from under the cuff of the jeans.

“Right on time!” Stiles says, the grin nearly splitting his face.

“I may have been sitting in your driveway for ten minutes, because I didn’t want to be early,” Derek jokes.

“Wouldn’t want you to come early,” Stiles jokes back, and Derek groans at the horribly bad joke as Stiles just shrugs and ushers him in.

“You look hot,” Stiles says, and Derek wonders if Stiles had this kind of lack of filter when they first went out? To his surprise, he actually likes it. It makes him more… genuine.

“So do you,” Derek says, his thumb sliding over the collar of Stiles’ shirt, because damn, if Stiles can be bold, so can he.

“That’s definitely a good thing then,” Stiles smiles, and Derek knows what he means by that. The ‘because you’re here for sex’ part may be unspoken but obvious.

“You want something to drink?” Stiles asks, disappearing into what Derek assumes is the kitchen. The view of Stiles’ ass in those jeans is indeed a sight to behold.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Derek says, tearing his eyes away from Stiles, and taking in his surroundings.

There are pictures up on the wall, of Stiles at all ages. With big bunny teeth and a perky nose when he was a little kid. With long floppy hair, half over his eyes, when he must’ve been around ten. With a buzzcut when he was a teenager. There are pictures with Scott, with Lydia and Allison. Pictures with his father and with who Derek assumes must’ve been his mother. She has moles dotted all over her face, just like Stiles. Pictures with his Dad, Scott, and Melissa; the two families obviously close.

“Beer, wine, soda?” Stiles calls out from the kitchen, “Or something harder? My Dad has good whiskey.”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks. Whiskey goes to my head rather fast,” Derek admits. But a beer might be just enough to calm his nerves a little bit.

“Don’t want to get all wasted?” Stiles asks, coming out with two beers in his hands.

“I doubt you’ll have much fun with me if I’m passed out on the couch,” Derek says, taking one of the bottles from Stiles.

They clink the heads of the bottles against each other before both taking a swig.

“Call me crazy but I like my men a bit more… awake,” Stiles smiles.

“I’d be genuinely worried and probably halfway out the door if you didn’t,” Derek replies, picking at the label of his bottle.

Stiles regards him for a second, then nods towards his fingers shredding apart the label. “Nervous?” he asks, softly.

Derek shrugs, even though he kind of wants to admit that he is.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna…” Stiles starts, but there’s no way Derek is backing out now. Not with Stiles standing here in front of him, looking good enough to eat. Not now that Derek has made up his mind that he _wants_ Stiles. He wants to get his body underneath him. He wants to know what that skin tastes like, the noises he makes when he’s being pleasured, the way his eyes would look on the verge of climax.

So Derek shakes his head and grabs Stiles by the collar, and pulls him in to make his intentions quite clear. Stiles’ lips taste of beer now, and feel slightly cold, but move eagerly against his. When Derek pulls away, resting his forehead against Stiles’, Stiles looks back at him with a stupidly happy smile on his face.

“Nervous? Maybe a bit,” Derek says, just to make things clear, “But changing my mind? Hell no.”

“Thank God,” Stiles lets out, relieved, “Because I’ve seriously been looking forward to this.”

He rubs his forehead a little against Derek’s, as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Then Stiles downs his beer in one go, and grabs onto Derek’s arm.

“Come on,” he says, a sly grin on his face, pulling him towards the stairs.

Derek has just enough time to put his bottle on the table, and then he’s being hauled up the stairs by an enthusiastic Stiles. He gets pushed into what he assumes is Stiles’ bedroom, a big double bed furnishing one side along the wall.

Derek really doesn’t have a whole lot of time to check out the rest of the room, because then Stiles’ arms are wrapped around his neck, and his mouth finds Derek’s. The kiss is a little bit rushed, Stiles’ exuberance taking the upper hand as he crowds Derek against the door, pressing his entire body up against Derek’s. Derek can’t help but smile into the kiss, so much even that Stiles pulls away with an enquiring look on his face.

“Hey…” Derek says softly, and somehow he both loves and hates the way Stiles’ face this close to his makes him feel almost breathless. “You know we have all night, right?”

Stiles’ face smooths out a bit, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth almost timidly.

“No need to rush, okay?” Derek says, and to prove his point he nuzzles his face underneath Stiles’ jawline, slowly but languorously nipping and licking there. His tongue slides over the smooth skin, lingering at every little spot. When Derek presses his nose underneath Stiles’ ear, his lungs are filled with the fresh, pure scent of Stiles’ soap, and Derek can feel it tingling into his chest. Stiles goes almost pliant underneath Derek’s touch, as his breathing speeds up, and he kind of wriggles against Derek.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters, his breath hitching. “That’s…”

Derek takes that as his clue that Stiles does appreciate the languid approach as well, and he scrapes his teeth slowly over Stiles’ jawline. Stiles’ knees sag a little, and Derek tightens his grip on Stiles’ hips, as Stiles sinks against him.

“Oh, I was so wrong…” Stiles mutters on a deep exhale.

“About?” Derek asks, before nipping at Stiles’ jaw.

“That fucking beard when you kissed me… it felt so good,” Stiles says, tilting his head backwards, his arms still wound around Derek’s neck, “But then the clean look was so nice, and now this… _Oh man_.”

And yeah, maybe Stiles is a little bit obsessed with Derek’s facial hair, but he can definitely work with that. Derek rubs his cheek with day old stubble deliberately against Stiles’ jaw, and is rewarded by a whimper.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathes, pressing his hips down against Derek’s, and it’s no surprise they’re both rock hard already. “I need, I need you to…”

“What?” Derek whispers, but he deliberately covers Stiles’ mouth with his in a tease.

Stiles opens up underneath him immediately, tongue darting out to swipe against Derek’s teeth. And Derek wishes he could just do this all night, just melt into this kiss until his stomach is fluttering and his knees are buckling and he comes with Stiles’ lips on his.

“What?” Derek asks again, when tipping his nose against Stiles’, lips barely touching each other.

“I want your face all over me…” Stiles all but whines, and the sight of Stiles so far gone already has Derek straining against his underwear.

“That’s one hell of a stubble burn waiting to happen, Stiles,” Derek says, but he presses his face into Stiles’ cheek anyway.

“I don’t care,” Stiles breathes, “I don’t even care. I need it.”

Derek huffs out a breath of laughter, Stiles’ hands gripping in the fabric of Derek’s shirt.

“You’re crazy…” Derek mutters, but he feels more than happy to comply. He slips the plaid shirt over Stiles’ shoulders slowly, pressing little kisses into his neck as he does so. The shirt falls to the floor silently, and Derek tugs at the hem of Stiles’ undershirt, edging it up, revealing a perfect dark happy trail, slipping down into his jeans. And it has Derek almost mesmerized. He lifts up the shirt, ducking down to kiss at Stiles’ collarbone, purposefully rubbing his chin over Stiles’ nipple. Stiles jerks at the touch, mutters a few profanities under his breath, before yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it into the corner of the room.

“C’mere,” Stiles mumbles, tugging at Derek’s shirt as he steps backwards towards the bed.

When the back of his knees reach the bed, he sits down, pulling Derek in between his parted legs. Nimble fingers make quick work of Derek’s belt.

“Too many clothes,” Stiles says, looking up at Derek and holding eye contact as he slowly and carefully starts unbuttoning Derek’s pants. “Been dying to see that body of yours. All of it.”

Derek has never been shy or self-conscious about his body - he knows what he looks like - but the way Stiles is looking up at him now, nothing but desire and want in his eyes… it makes him wonder if he’s truly looking at Derek, if someone can really want him that much?

 _For his body_ , Derek forces himself to add. For sex.

Derek pulls up his shirt, over his head, as Stiles’ fingers are still curled in the waistband of his pants, one index finger lazily dragging over Derek’s happy trail. He’s still looking up at Derek, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and Jesus, Derek can’t breathe. It’s absolutely sinful.

Derek toes off his shoes, haphazardly kicking them behind him, and Stiles leans in and licks one long wet stripe up Derek’s stomach, along the strip of dark hair there.

“Fuck,” Derek breathes out, throwing his head back, hands reaching out to steady himself on Stiles’ shoulders.

Then Stiles grabs him by the waistband and pulls him on the bed. Derek lands on his back, sprawled out on Stiles’ fresh sheets, and Stiles wastes no time in swinging his leg over Derek and straddling him. His hands flitter over Derek’s chest, thumbs brushing over sensitive stomach, making him writhe underneath Stiles. Stiles leans back to trace his fingers over Derek’s legs, and by doing so his ass rubs down over Derek’s fabric-clad hard-on, and Derek can’t hold in a moan.

“So, do you…” Stiles starts, hands sliding up his chest, a thumb catching on Derek’s nipple and Derek swears he feels like he’s on fire. Stiles shrugs, almost coy. “Do you have any preferences?”  

 _You_ , Derek wants to say. _Just you_. But he swallows hard and gives a little shake of his head.

“Whatever you… I’m good with most things,” Derek says, his fingernails scratching over the jeans covering Stiles’ thighs.

Stiles smiles, leans down to press his lips on Derek’s, sloppily, then rubs his own cheek against Derek’s until his mouth reaches Derek’s ear.

“I wanna taste your dick…” Stiles whispers, brushing his lips over the shell of Derek’s ear, and Derek’s cock twitches in anticipation. Stiles’ hands are trapped between them, slowly working the buttons of Derek’s pants.  

“Stiles…” Derek groans, the thought of Stiles’ tongue over his dick, of those lips wrapped around the tip… it would have been enough to get Derek hard in two seconds flat, if he hadn’t been already.

“That something you’re good with?” Stiles asks, his hands pushing down Derek’s pants over his hips.

“Fuck yeah…” Derek says, and he lifts his hips off the bed for Stiles to slide his pants off entirely.

The pants fall off the bed, socks too, and Stiles slides back up Derek’s body, his teeth nipping at Derek’s nipple as he inches his way back down. He noses along Derek’s happy trail, before slotting his mouth over the cock still confined in Derek’s boxers. Derek arches up, letting out a deep sigh as Stiles runs his tongue over the length of his dick. The heat of his mouth through the fabric of the underwear is electrifying, making Derek bite his lip with want.

“Yeah…” Stiles whispers at nothing particular, as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of the boxers and slides them down.

Derek’s cock pops out from under the elastic band, and Stiles wastes no time in nuzzling his nose in the pubes at the bottom of it, humming contently as he pulls the boxers down entirely.

“Knew you’d be beautiful all over,” Stiles mutters, smiling as he looks down at Derek’s hard-on.

Derek lets out a laugh, but it gets stuck in his throat when Stiles licks his lips, wetting them, and then sucks the head of Derek’s cock between them.

“ _Fuck…_ ” Derek breathes, Stiles’ tongue swirling around the tip while his hands rub up and down Derek’s thighs.

It’s been a while since Derek’s had a blowjob, and the feeling of Stiles taking his dick in his warm, wet mouth is overwhelming. Derek closes his eyes, fists his hands in the sheets underneath him, and just completely resigns to Stiles’ mouth on his body. Stiles’ tongue licks up Derek’s thigh for a second, before zigzagging along the underside of his shaft. His hands are kneading Derek’s thighs, fingers scratching every so often, leaving prickles Derek can feel all the way down to his toes.

Derek loses all notion of time as Stiles continues to flood his cock with non-stop attention, going from sloppy to precise, sucking his balls into that beautiful mouth every now and then, before turning his tongue back onto the shaft, sliding up sideways with his lips.

Derek doesn’t care about the content hums and sighs that leave his mouth, they only seem to encourage Stiles anyway.

Stiles’ fingers are fondling Derek’s balls, in perfect rhythm with the way his mouth is bobbing up and down, and fuck, the noises Stiles makes are obscene and… perfect. Stiles is eager and… yeah, he’s definitely enjoying himself too. One of his fingers slides over Derek’s perineum, teasing, testing. Derek grunts as Stiles applies a little pressure, and his hips buck up off the mattress involuntarily.

“Fuck, sorry,” Derek whispers, bringing up his hands to rub them over his face, trying to regain some control.

“‘s fine…” Stiles smiles through slick lips, pressing his face along the side of Derek’s cock.

Stiles’ finger carefully trails a little further, circling around Derek’s opening gingerly. Derek exhales sharply, carding his fingers through his hair. When he forces himself to lift his head and look down, Stiles is looking up at him with big anticipating eyes, his cheek pressed against Derek’s hard dick, his mouth open, lips shiny with spit and pre-come. He holds Derek’s gaze as he teases his finger at Derek’s entrance, applying pressure but nothing more.

“Okay…?” Stiles mouths, his lips falling right back open again, and Derek has to swallow at the sight before he can even speak.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes, “Stiles, yeah…”

And Stiles grins, sticking his finger in his mouth quickly. Then he leans down again, taking Derek back into his mouth in one fell swoop, as he presses the tip of his wet finger past Derek’s rim, agonizingly slow. Derek closes his eyes again, bites his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from coming right there and then. His hand reaches down, resting gently on Stiles’ hair. Stiles pushes his finger further in, carefully, crooking it a little bit, much to Derek’s pleasure.

He thinks he mutters Stiles’ name, his cock hot and wet in Stiles’ mouth, as Stiles tongues along the slit. There’s a second finger teasing at Derek’s opening. Stiles’ other hand is gripping around his leg, clutching at his thigh as if his life depended on it. Until Stiles lets go abruptly, and when Derek looks down, he can see Stiles fumbling his free hand at his own pants, hastily sliding down the zipper, pushing his pants over his hips a little bit, giving himself more room.

“Don’t come yet…” Derek manages to get out, because he wants to get his hands on Stiles’ cock himself. He wants to be the one to make Stiles come.

Stiles just grins against Derek’s cock, his hand coming up to brush over Derek’s thigh again, before resting on top of Derek’s abs. There’s pressure as the second finger finally slides in, filling him up and searching out to hit the spot. Stiles licks at his cock again, then lets his bottom lip drag all the way up the shaft, tantalizingly slow. Derek knows he’s not far from coming. He can’t help but cover Stiles’ hand that’s teasing over his stomach, but Stiles doesn’t seem to mind. He just hooks his thumb over Derek’s, as the nimble fingers of his other hand find the right spot and Derek gasps for air.

“Stiles, I…” Derek mutters, but Stiles seems to understand, because he pulls his mouth off Derek’s cock, slipping his hand out from underneath Derek’s to give Derek’s cock a few more jerks. His fingers push in a little bit more, and that’s all it takes for Derek to come, his hips spasming up as he spurts, before sagging down into a boneless heap on the mattress.

“Damn…” Derek says, breathless, when Stiles’ fingers slide all the way out of him, caressing gently around Derek’s opening while Derek comes down from his high, before wiping them off on the sheets.

Stiles slides up the bed, an arm moving over Derek’s chest, to come face to face with him. Derek opens his eyes lazily, smiles stupidly at Stiles when his nose is only a few inches away from his.

“Hi,” Stiles says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“ _You…_ ” Derek says, clasping his hand at the side of Stiles’ neck, pulling Stiles down in a kiss.

“Me,” Stiles says smugly, as they finally pull away with a loud smacking sound.

“That fucking mouth,” Derek says, almost in wonder, as he brushes his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip, the tip of the finger teasing against Stiles’ fucking cupid’s bow.

His eyes land on Stiles’ unkempt hair and he can’t help but snort.

“You have come in your hair,” Derek says, brushing his hand through the strands of Stiles’ hair.

“Now tell me this wasn’t a brilliant idea,” Stiles says, completely undisturbed by the fact that there is semen in his hair, stealing another quick kiss from Derek.

“And you haven’t even come yet.” Derek raises his eyebrow, slowly but steadily regaining his breath. And the function of muscles.

“I have faith in you.” Stiles smirks, and Derek surges up, pressing his face into Stiles’ neck.

“My turn,” he says, grinning, and he urges Stiles face-down into the mattress.  

Derek slides down the bed a bit, tugging off the jeans that seem painted on Stiles’ ass, right along with the boxer briefs. Stiles tilts his hips, adjusting himself comfortably on the mattress, as Derek nudges his legs open, just enough to position himself between Stiles’ knees. Stiles’ ass is beautifully presented for Derek, rosy and round, a few moles speckled across it, and Derek revels at the sight.

He looks at Stiles, who’s looking back over his shoulder, his face flushed and shining with anticipation. And Derek waits for Stiles to nod before he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss against one of Stiles’ cheeks. Stiles hums a little, squirming against the sheets when Derek rubs his chin over Stiles’ ass. There’s a satisfied moan as Derek skims his hands over the back of Stiles’ legs, resting with his thumbs slightly pressed between Stiles’ ass cheeks.

Derek lifts himself up a bit, trailing kisses over Stiles’ back, his hands sliding back and forth over Stiles’ thighs, each time pressing in between Stiles’ cheeks. He licks a path from mole to mole, up to Stiles’ shoulderblades, and then drags his mouth back down over Stiles’ spine, slowly.

“Oh Jesus…” Stiles mutters, rubbing his dick down onto the sheets in response.

When Derek’s lips find the swell of Stiles’ ass again, his fingers carefully spreading Stiles open a bit, he presses his face down between his cheeks, nuzzling into the warmth.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Stiles cries out, bucking out his ass in what Derek thinks is a reflex. “Stubble…”

Derek grins, rubbing his cheek over Stiles’ skin deliberately before asking, “Sensitive?”

“Like a freaking baby’s bottom…” Stiles huffs out in breathless laughter.

Derek groans, because who even says that? But Stiles doesn’t seem to care as he’s grinding his hips down fervently.

“If you have more plans with that ass…” Stiles says breathlessly, pushing himself up on his elbows as he looks back at Derek, “I’m just saying, I’m pretty close already…”

His face looks wrecked, his eyes almost glazed over with lust, and Derek is pretty sure he doesn’t want Stiles to come before he’s actually had a chance to touch him properly, to taste him…  

“Point taken,” Derek grins, and before Stiles can even reply, he’s ducking his face down between Stiles’ cheeks and swiping his tongue sloppily over Stiles’ hole.

“Oh yeah…” Stiles groans, sagging through his elbows down onto the mattress.

Derek tongues at the rim, circling, teasing, while his hands knead Stiles’ ass. He scrapes his teeth along the skin of Stiles’ butt cheeks, then finally pushes his tongue in, past the rim, and Stiles actually _shudders_. He’s making desperate sounding noises as Derek twists his tongue, nuzzling down as deep as he can go.

“Fuck, fuuuuck…” Stiles whines, pushing his ass up off the mattress, thrusting against Derek’s face.

Derek slides his hand underneath Stiles, reaching for his leaking cock, fingers trailing over the underside. Stiles’ balls rest heavy against Derek’s wrist as he starts working his cock. His dick twitches in Derek’s hand, and Stiles is muttering one long incomprehensible string of profanities now, until he bites down into the sheets, muffling himself.

Derek starts stroking him in earnest, the angle somewhat awkward due to their position, but it seems to do the trick anyway. Stiles is slender and long in his palm, slick with pre-come. Derek pushes his tongue in deeper, then pulls out, lapping over the hole before thrusting back in again.

“Dere-mph…” Stiles moans, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and Derek can tell that he’s so close.

So Derek flicks his thumb over the head of Stiles’ dick, circling Stiles’ opening with his tongue as he brushes his chin against Stiles’ skin, and…

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Stiles would be loud when he comes, and if Derek is completely honest, he revels in the sound as Stiles grunts noisily, coming all over the sheets and Derek’s hand. He collapses back on the bed, making some additional content groaning sounds, as Derek places a few gentle kisses on the top of his ass. Then Derek crawls up the bed, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth for a second, before collapsing down half on top of Stiles’ back.  

“We need to do that more…” Stiles says with ragged breath, as Derek nuzzles the back of Stiles’ neck, kissing his shoulder. “We need to do that… oh fuck, I would do it again right now if I had a single bone left in my body.”

Derek can only agree, sliding his hand over Stiles’ arm and slotting his hips down against Stiles’ ass.

“Sounds perfect…” Derek sighs, and he doesn’t mean to, but he’s closing his eyes before he knows it.

“Fuck, I’m right in the wet spot,” Stiles says - that pesky lack of brain-to-mouth filter again - as he’s catching his breath.

“‘s your wet spot,” Derek slurs, smiling, making no intention of moving.

“I’m sure your spunk is on here somewhere as well,” Stiles protests, but his hand reaches up to cover Derek’s.

They lay there, starfished out on top of each other on the bed, for a few silent moments, and then Stiles mumbles, “I don’t wanna move…”

“Mmm-me neither,” Derek all but purrs, his ear pressed against Stiles’ warm skin.

“‘s disgusting…” Stiles mutters, about the wet spot, and yet he makes it sound satisfying somehow.

Derek is waiting for Stiles to push him off, for Stiles to give him some indication that it’s time for Derek to go home. After all, that’s what people do in these kinds of situations, don’t they? They leave when the sex is over, when orgasms have been had, when the other person doesn’t need them anymore. And yet Stiles isn’t moving, and Derek is so damn comfortable that he doesn’t want to be the first to budge.

 _Just a few more minutes_ , Derek thinks. Just until they both catch their breaths. Just a few more minutes…

***

 TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night, to find that he's alone in bed.

Stiles wakes up alone, and all but sticking to the sheets because of the mess they’d made. He groans as he rolls over onto his back, looking around the room. It takes his sleep-fogged brain a few moments to realize that a) Derek isn’t here anymore, and b) someone - Derek - has put a comforter over him while he was sleeping so he wouldn’t be cold.

Stiles rubs his eyes, looks over at his alarm clock to see it’s 3AM. He groans again, because damn, he would like to just close his eyes again and go back to sleep. But his sheets are disgusting, _he_ is disgusting, and he really doesn’t want to run into his father like this in the morning. He wants to… if Stiles is really honest with himself, he kind of wants to rolls over into Derek’s arms and maybe go for round two. But Derek is gone, kind of understandably, and round two will have to wait.

At least, Stiles assumes there might be a round two. They sure as hell had a good time during round one. And Stiles has to grin at the thought. Oh yeah, they definitely have to have a round two.

Stiles forces himself up to change the sheets and take a shower. His eyes land on his phone, laying on his nightstand, and he lights up the screen to find one new text message.

**From Derek:**

_You might need some aloe vera for that stubble burn in the morning._

Stiles chuckles, and there’s a little weight that falls off his shoulders knowing that Derek didn’t just leave without a word.

**To Derek:**

_Might be a bit difficult to reach in certain places. Were you proposing your help?_

He puts the phone back down on the nightstand, and starts pulling off the sheets and taking fresh ones out of his closet. Once that’s done, he heads over to the shower, turns the water scorching hot, and traces his fingers over the patches of skin Derek rubbed his stubble against.

“So worth it,” Stiles mutters as the water spills over his face, making him feel all warm inside.

When he’s dry and crawling back into his newly clean bed, he notices a new message on his phone.

**From Derek:**

_Not sure if that was included when I bid on you, to be honest. I’d have to check._

And damn, is Derek actually making jokes?

**To Derek:**

_Pretty funny for a guy who had his face up my ass a few hours ago._

**From Derek:**

_Still laying in the wet spot?_

Stiles barks out a laugh at that, starts typing again. He guesses there’s no time like the present to propose another date…

**To Derek:**

_Clean sheets. We’re all good to go for round two._

Stiles tugs the comforter up over his shoulders, snuggling down in the pillow with his phone in his hands, waiting for Derek to answer.

**From Derek:**

_I’ll give you some time to recover first. You fell asleep on me earlier, remember?_

Stiles bites his lip as he types, hesitating only a second before pressing send after all.

**To Derek:**

_How about next time I make sure you won’t be able to sneak out while I’m sleeping, huh? You won’t even be able to walk straight after I’m done with you._

It doesn’t take long to get an answer.

**From Derek:**

_Sounds like a plan. I’m holding you to that._

Stiles grins, because damn, that sounds good.

**To Derek:**

_Better get some sleep then. You’ll need your strength. Goodnight._

**From Derek:**

_Goodnight, Stiles._

Stiles puts the phone back on the nightstand, and cocoons himself into his comforter. And if he falls asleep thinking of Derek’s body against him, well, who can blame him?

***

“Will you quit singing along with the radio?” Scott asks from the passenger seat, “You sound like a cat that’s being murdered or something.”

“Nonsense!” Stiles smiles brightly, and promptly belts out another tune at the top of his lungs.

Scott groans, sags a little deeper into the seat and shakes his head.

“You’re obnoxious when you get laid,”  Scott mutters, his hands around the Tupperware box in his lap.

“You mean I am an actual ball of sunshine, right?” Stiles beams, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music. Or maybe a little bit off the beat, but who cares, right? “The sun is shining, the sky is blue, birds are singing…”

“The sky is cloudy as fuck and you can’t even see the sun,” Scott counters, chuckling.

“Well, it’s shining in my heart!” Stiles says, going right back into the chorus, singing loudly in the car.

“Or your dick…” Scott mutters, “Does Derek have magical powers or something? I swear to God, I haven’t seen you this annoyingly happy since you lost your virginity.”

“Magical powers…” Stiles snorts, and Scott is already groaning before Stiles can add, “Magical tongue all up my ass…”

“Oh _Jesus_ , Stiles,” Scott rubs his hand over his face as Stiles parks the car in the hospital parking lot.

“Stubble is a gift, Scott,” Stiles says, completely serious.

He looks at Scott, in earnest, and Scott just bursts out laughing.

“Come on,” Scott says, shaking his head in amusement, “Lets go bring my mom her lunch, yeah? And for the love of God, no talking about your ass in front of her.”

Stiles jumps out the car, slamming the door shut.

“Hey, is your mom being as mysterious as my dad is about this whole dating thing?” Stiles asks, as they’re walking up to the entrance.

“She just said she had a great time,” Scott answers, “But she had like… this creepy, happy smile on her face, you know?”

“We Stilinski men do have that effect on people,” Stiles winks at his friend.

“I shudder to think…” Scott says, arriving at the front desk of Beacon Hills Memorial.

“Hi,” Scott greets the friendly desk clerk that Stiles has seen a few times before, “Is my mom busy?”

“I think she’s finishing up with a patient,” the nice girl answers, shooting a warm smile at Scott, “I’ll just page her for you.”

“Thanks,” Scott says, and they make room for the person lining up behind them.

“Maybe we should’ve asked my dad to come bring the lunch she forgot?” Stiles says to Scott, leaning back against the wall.

Scott smiles at the thought. “Next time, yeah?”

While they wait for a bit, Stiles is scoping out the vending machine - all out of Reese’s, what a disgrace. How are people even supposed to get better in this hospital? - when Scott suddenly says, “Derek.”

Stiles whips his head around at the name, and sure enough, stepping towards them through the hallway is Derek, some papers in his hand, his eyes fixed on the exit. He clearly didn’t see either Scott or Stiles.

“Derek!” Stiles calls out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he hurries over to him.

Derek’s face opens in a shy smile when he looks up and sees Stiles.

“Hey,” Derek says, and there’s a moment’s hesitation where neither Derek nor Stiles seem to know how to actually greet each other.

Stiles stops himself from leaning in and kissing Derek, and instead just jokes, “One night with me and you end up in the hospital, huh?”

Derek ducks his head, smiling. “Thought maybe you were here for that nasty stubble burn?”

Stiles barks out a laugh, and damn, he likes this side of Derek. The side where he never quite suspects that Derek is gonna say something silly and borderline suggestive.

“It’s not too bad, actually,” Stiles says, tilting his head back a bit as he brushes his hand over the sensitive - only slightly red - skin of his neck.

And Stiles definitely considers it a win when Derek’s eyes linger on Stiles’ neck.

“Hi, Derek,” Scott says pointedly as he steps a little closer to Stiles, clearly meaning it as a ‘Jesus Christ, please stop pimping yourself out in the middle of my mom’s hospital’ kind of thing.

“Hello, Scott,” Derek says, nodding to him.

“Scott’s mom works here,” Stiles says, pointing at the container in Scott’s hands, “We’re bringing her the lunch that she forgot and then we’re on our way to the park to play some lacrosse.”

“Lacrosse, that’s cool,” Derek says.

“Well, it’s no marathon like the one you were running the other day,” Stiles smiles.

“Not exactly a marathon, Stiles,” Derek smiles back, and the way his name rolls of Derek’s tongue kindles a warm feeling in the pit of Stiles’ stomach. “I just…” Derek says, waving around the papers in his hand a bit, “Came in for a check-up. Haven’t seen a doctor while I was in Alaska, so…”

“Smart,” Stiles says, and then Melissa is walking up to them with a bounce in her step.

“Boys!” she calls out, throwing an arm around Scott’s neck before planting a great big kiss on his cheek.

She does the same to Stiles, and Stiles accepts gratefully.

“Hello, Derek,” she smiles broadly at him.

“What? No kisses for him?” Stiles jokes, winking at Derek, but Melissa just slaps him playfully on the arm.

“That’s not my place,” Melissa says, and Stiles wonders if maybe she knows more than she lets on.

“You boys are so sweet, bringing me this,” Melissa says, accepting the Tupperware container gratefully.

“No problem, Mom,” Scott says, “We were on our way out anyway.”

“You saved me from eating lunch out of the vending machine,” Melissa says.

“And they’re all out of Reese’s too,” Stiles shakes his head sorrowfully, “It’s a sad state of affairs.”

“Tragic,” Derek mutters, and Stiles looks over at him to see him shake his head in compassion.

Stiles just pushes him in the chest. “Don’t make fun of me.”

But he likes it. He fucking loves the way Derek is looking at him like… like he’s something special. The way Derek is playing along with his stupid jokes while the McCall’s are rolling their eyes fondly. Damn, he really does like it…

There’s an alarm going off then, and Melissa looks behind her to check.

“Oh, that’s me,” she says, placing a hurried kiss on Scott and Stiles’ cheeks, and running off towards the room of the alarm, along with some other people in scrubs.

“So…” Stiles turns towards Scott, “Live or die?”

Scott scrunches up his face, ponders for a second, then declares, “Lives.”

“Yep, same,” Stiles says, taking another glance at the room the alarms are still beeping from, before his eyes fall on Derek’s confused face.

“What are you…?” Derek asks.

“Oh, whenever there’s a code whatever going off while we’re here, we try and predict the outcome,” Stiles says, breezily.

“That’s… morbid,” Derek says, the expression of his face stuck between horror and amusement.

“We used to spend a lot of time here,” Scott says, shrugging, “We just tried to make it… more fun?”

“You guys have a peculiar way of having fun,” Derek says, shaking his head in amusement.

“Teenagers trying to fill the long hours waiting, man.” Stiles shrugs, then taps Scott on the shoulder, “Dude, remember when we snuck into the morgue?”

“Oh my God, my Mom was so pissed!” Scott says, smiling like an idiot.

“Mad props for her never tattling on us to my Dad though,” Stiles says, and Scott nods solemnly.

“You two are a menace to this hospital and I feel like I should get you out of here,” Derek laughs.

“You wanna join us for lacrosse?” Scott blurts out, and Stiles freezes for a second because he has no idea whether Derek would ever want to hang out with him outside of… their little arrangement. They weren’t supposed to hang out, they weren’t supposed to _date_.

Derek looks at Stiles, like he’s trying to gauge his reaction, and then just shakes his head as he gives Scott a tiny smile.

“Thanks, but I promised Laura I’d help out at the sanctuary,” Derek says, somewhat stiffly. “Some repairs on one of the barracks.”

“Okay,” Scott says, cheerfully, “Maybe next time, eh?”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek says, and Stiles is a little bit unsure as to what just happened.

Derek nods towards the exit, says, “Well, I should be off then.”

“Yeah…” Stiles says, somewhat uncertain.

Derek looks at him for a second, then waves goodbye as he starts walking away.

“Bye,” Stiles frowns when Derek probably can’t even hear him anymore.

He tries not to feel too disappointed, but he thinks he probably fails.

***

Stiles drops his lacrosse stick to the floor in his bedroom as he arrives back home. Playing with Scott had been… well, Stiles had a hard time keeping his mind in the game. His thoughts were constantly pulled back to Derek. The way he was so open and warm and actually funny, up until the moment Scott had invited him along. And Stiles knows that that was basically part of the deal, the deal that _Stiles_ had proposed. It was Stiles that had said “no dates, just sex”, because well… wasn’t that what Derek wanted? Wasn’t that the only way they’d actually have some fun together? Their first date was a disaster. Stiles never had such a tediously long evening. So hanging out without sex is a bad idea, isn’t it?

Stiles tries to convince himself that it is. This way Derek doesn’t have to put up with him without getting something in return. This way he doesn’t have to listen to Stiles’ endless babbling, only being received by a scowl. And this way Stiles doesn’t have to try and fill endless silences because Derek clearly doesn’t know what to say to him. Not when there’s no sexual undertone anyway.

So no, Stiles definitely made the right call. Derek is hot enough to find a possible suitor at the corner of every street, but if for now he agrees to spend his time with Stiles… well, then Stiles can count himself lucky.

He pulls his shirt over his head, steps out of his pants, and heads for the shower. As he’s standing under the hot spray, thoughts of the night before flood his brain. Derek’s kisses, the way he brushed his lips along the path of Stiles’ moles, the way his stubble teased and tantalized against Stiles’ skin. As the drops slosh over Stiles’ back, and he closes his eyes, he can always pretend that it’s Derek’s touch.

Stiles thinks about all the ways he would still like to touch Derek, all the ways he’d like Derek to make him come… Before he knows it, Stiles is hard, gathering up soap to slick over his stiff dick.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters, leaning his forehead against the wet tile, stroking his fist over his hard-on roughly while he fondles his balls with his other hand.

He teases a foam slippery finger past his balls, circling his opening, before pushing in.

Not quite as good as Derek’s tongue, but it’ll do the trick.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two days since Derek saw Stiles and Scott at the hospital.

**From Stiles:**

_Sooooooo… you free tonight?_

It’s been two days since he saw Stiles and Scott at the hospital, and he hasn’t heard from Stiles since. Not that Derek was expecting to, of course. The panicked look on Stiles’ face when Scott invited Derek along for lacrosse spoke volumes. Stiles clearly meant it when he propositioned Derek to be his sex-buddy only, and after all, that was what Derek agreed to, right?

**To Stiles:**

_Why? Do you maybe have an interesting proposition to make?_

No need to immediately say “how high” when Stiles says “jump”, right?

“What’s that look on your face?” Laura asks, as she steps into the office.

Derek puts down his phone next to his keyboard, and focuses back on his computer screen, trying to make sense of the data in front of him.

“Nothing,” Derek mutters, going back a few pages because he realizes he hasn’t been paying attention.

“It’s cute when you think you can hide stuff from me,” Laura says, sliding behind Derek and squeezing his shoulders for a second.

And obviously that’s the exact moment his phone decides to light up again with a reply from Stiles and Laura snatches up his phone before he can even react.

“Laura,” Derek warns, trying to grab the phone back, but Laura is flittering out from behind the desk to get away from him.

“Now lets see what my brothe…” she stops, her eyes glued to the screen as she gapes, then starts cackling maniacally.

“That’s private, Laur,” Derek huffs, getting up from behind his desk.

“I can see that!” Laura says, grinning ear to ear when she hands him back the phone.

Derek’s afraid to even look at the message.

“So you and Stiles seem to be having a good time,” Laura says, and she’s trying for an innocent tone but it’s completely useless with the devilish twinkle in her eye.

“I told you about his proposal,” Derek says as he shrugs, trying to sound casual even though his heart is exploding in his chest.

“You didn’t tell me all this,” Laura winks.

Derek reluctantly looks at the text he’s gotten.

**From Stiles:**

_Several, actually. I could definitely go for another round of your face in my ass. But I was more hoping to make good on that promise of spreading you open and fucking you senseless. See if I can make you come without touching your dick._

He groans in embarrassment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s because _all this_ ,” Derek says, gesturing vaguely towards his phone, “Is incredibly creepy to talk about with your sister.”

“Oh, psssssh,” Laura waves him off, “It’s just sex.”

“Sex we are _not_ discussing,” Derek replies. His thumbs twiddle over the phone, typing out an answer to Stiles.

**To Stiles:**

_Of all the texts to intercept, THIS is the one my sister chooses to read._

“I’d call you a prude, but then again, I just found out you got your face all up in that ass,” Laura chuckles.

“I swear to God…” Derek starts, but then the phone starts ringing in his hand, and it’s… Stiles.

“You’re kidding me?” Stiles shrieks when Derek answers the phone.

“She’s a horrible person who is never coming within ten feet of my phone again,” Derek simply answers, fixing Laura with a look.

Laura just laughs, then yells, “Make sure you have lots of lube!”

“Oh my God, you didn’t just…” Derek starts, slapping his hand on his forehead before heading out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.

“She’s the worst…” Derek mutters, but Stiles is laughing profusely on the other end of the line. “I swear, the two of you… you’re just as bad.”

“Oh come on, Derek,” Stiles laughs, “It’s funny.”

“She’s never gonna let this go,” Derek groans, and he can already sense the horrible jokes coming on.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stiles says, sounding very much not sorry, “It’s not like I knew you’d be showing my texts around to everyone.”

“Excuse me?” Derek says, trying for outraged because he knows that Stiles is teasing him, “She _stole_ my phone! And it’s not like I knew you’d be writing an entire porn book to me!”

“Aww, you’re so cute if you think that’s a porn book,” Stiles coos, “You have so much to learn.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, a smile tugging at his lips, “Maybe you should take it upon yourself to teach me then?”

“Well…” Stiles says, and it feel like his voice has dropped significantly in a matter of seconds, “Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, because apparently saying no to Stiles is simply not an option anymore.

“Would you believe me if I tell you I’m sporting a semi already, just from knowing I’ll have you underneath me tonight?” Stiles asks, his voice down to a whisper.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek says, looking behind him to make sure he’s alone, before sitting down on the steps outside the office.

“You never answered my question though…” Stiles says, lingering.

Derek closes his eyes, leans his head back against the door, and whispers into the phone, “Yeah, Stiles. You can fuck me tonight.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna have to jerk off before you get here or I’m gonna come before I even get inside you,” Stiles breathes heavily.

“I swear to God, you…” Derek shakes his head, trying hard not to give into the mental images floating through his head. “You realize that you’re the absolute worst, right?”

“That’s not how you pronounce ‘best’, Derek,” Stiles says, and Derek can hear the grin all the way through the phone.

He lets out a noise between a groan and a laugh, because honestly, Stiles has got to be the biggest dork Derek has ever met, and how can he be so attracted to it?

***

“It’s fine,” Derek groans, “ _Please…_ ”

“Fuck, you look wrecked already…” Stiles says, a tinge of wonder to his voice, as he’s stretching out his slender fingers deep inside Derek’s ass.

“Can you please just…” Derek mutters, ending on a sigh as Stiles’ fingers slip out all at once, and it leaves Derek feeling both empty and shaking with anticipation.

Derek is laying boneless on the mattress, on his back, his legs spread wide to accommodate Stiles. Stiles rolls on a condom, his breathing heavy as his lips are parted, his gaze trailing over Derek’s body. He leans over to drag his lips up over Derek’s, noses rubbing against each other, and Derek wonders if he’s supposed to feel this way. If he’s ever going to get out of this, because he feels like he’s in too deep already. Way too deep.

Stiles coaxes some lube over his hard-on, slips some more over Derek’s hole, open and inviting. And then he leans over Derek again, bumping his forehead against Derek’s stubbled jaw as he lines himself up and pushes the head of his cock ever so slowly inside Derek.

“Good?” Stiles whispers, warm breath falling on Derek’s skin.

“Yeah,” Derek manages to whisper back, and then Stiles is slowly pushing in further, his palm sliding carefully over Derek’s thigh. “All the way,” Derek asks, his fingers digging into the skin of Stiles’ upper arms as Stiles holds himself up on the mattress on each side of Derek.

“You’re so tight…” Stiles says, groaning, as he pushes in completely.

“‘s been a while…” Derek admits, as Stiles’ balls are nuzzling his ass, bottomed out.

Stiles stays like that for a while, and Derek isn’t sure if it’s to let him adjust, or if Stiles is simply trying to regain some composure.

“Me too,” Stiles says, and Derek can’t deny that that surprises him a little bit.

The way Stiles has been acting, the casualness with which he approaches the subject… Derek realizes that he figured Stiles must do this all the time. He tries not to acknowledge the way his stomach flutters at the discovery that maybe this is just a little bit special to Stiles too.

There’s heavy breathing filling the air, as Stiles is buried deep inside Derek, his forehead still plastered against Derek’s cheek. They’re motionless for a few seconds, Derek adjusting to being stretched out over Stiles’ cock, until Derek can’t take it anymore and he involuntarily clenches around Stiles, his hands brought up to cup Stiles’ face. He presses his lips on Stiles’.

“You gotta move…” Derek whispers against Stiles’ mouth.

“Yeah…” Stiles whispers back, but it takes him another second to actually spring into action.

He pulls out halfway, thrusting back in under little gasps and moans. Their lips meet again, Derek pulling him down into a wet, sloppy kiss as Stiles starts speeding up, building up a satisfying rhythm as he pushes back into Derek. He falls down onto his elbow, trapping Derek’s hard dick between their stomachs, creating a hint of beautiful friction every time Stiles thrusts into him.

Stiles’ hand disappears in Derek’s hair, fingers scratching at the scalp, and Derek is unashamed about the noises of satisfaction he lets out. His own hands slide over Stiles’ neck, trace down over his shoulders, rubbing over Stiles’ back, fingernails trailing gently over Stiles’ spine. Stiles’ breath hitches into the kiss, his hips snapping down as Derek pushes up to meet his thrusts one for one.

When Stiles reaches down between them, folding his fingers around Derek’s hard-on, Derek breaks the kiss sloppily, a trail of Stiles’ spit lingering between their lips.

“I thought you wanted to make me come without touching me?” Derek asks, his tongue licking over his bottom lip.

“I’m weak,” Stiles smiles, breathless, giving Derek’s dick a little squeeze as he jerks his fist up. “I can’t not touch you…”

Derek lets out a puffed laugh, his breath faltering as Stiles swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing pre-come around.

“Your cock is perfect,” Stiles mutters, like he’s in a world of his own, as he nuzzles his face down into the crook of Derek’s neck, rubbing his skin against Derek’s stubble.

‘ _You’re_ perfect,’ Derek bites down on, and instead says, “I’m pretty happy about yours too, I gotta say.”

Stiles actually lets out a loud laugh at that, wavering in his thrusts for a second, as he tries to push himself up on one arm. The lines around his eyes are crinkled where his smile reaches them, dotted skin, shiny and flushed. The sight is overwhelming to Derek, and he closes his eyes as he tilts his head back into the sheets, focusing on the feel of Stiles’ cock pushing into him, slick and warm, balls occasionally slapping against Derek’s skin. He focuses on the way Stiles’ nimble fingers twist and slide over his already too sensitive dick, thumb rubbing underneath the slit, grip tightening deliciously on the downstroke every so often.

Derek’s heels are digging into the mattress, until Stiles pulls back a little, sitting back on his heels as he drags his hand away from Derek’s cock to grip Derek’s thighs, pulling him close as he starts thrusting in harder, faster. Derek hooks his legs around Stiles’ waist, each glorious push shoving him back into the sheets. He can see Stiles’ abs tighten, the muscles on his arms clench and release.

“Fuck, so close…” Stiles mutters, one hand wrapping around Derek’s dick again.

The mere touch is enough to make Derek’s balls tighten, and when Stiles twists his hips a bit as he pushes back in, hitting the spot perfectly, Derek is arching his back and coming all over Stiles’ hand, a low grunt escaping his open lips, as Stiles fucks him through his orgasm.  

He falls back into the sheets, pliant, and Stiles keeps thrusting, filling Derek completely. His palm is on Derek’s stomach, like he’s seeking support there, grounding himself against Derek. Derek’s eyelids are heavy, just like his breathing, but he looks up at Stiles - his face scrunched in concentration and delight - until Stiles trembles above him, reaching his climax with one last thrust and a loud moan. He collapses on top of Derek with a whine, his cock still buried deep inside of Derek. Stiles’ breath is hot against Derek’s skin, electrifying.

“How is this so _good_?” Stiles mutters, and he sounds half-drunk or something.

Derek wishes he had the answer, or at least something that didn’t make his heart clench at the thought of this just being… sex. And only sex.

So instead, Derek just brings up his arms to curl them around Stiles’ back, and buries his nose in Stiles’ messy hair. They stay like that for a few moments, and Derek closes his eyes as his lips are resting against Stiles’ forehead. Stiles twitches after a while, wriggling a tiny bit against Derek as Stiles’ now soft cock slips out of him with a content hum.

“I don’t wanna move…” Stiles moans after pulling off the condom, his cheek pressed against Derek’s chest, the majority of his body plastered on top of Derek.

“You never wanna move after sex,” Derek mutters, smiling, and okay, it’s not like Derek can really _know_ after two times, but he kind of likes the familiarity.

“Mmmnot true,” Stiles says, and Derek could swear he’s almost falling asleep.

“Well, you don’t look like you’re about ready to move now,” Derek whispers, planting a kiss in Stiles’ hair.

“I’ve been known to get the fuck out after sex,” Stiles mutters, and Derek can feel Stiles’ mouth form a smile against his skin.

“Is that a hint?” Derek asks, even though the way Stiles is basically trapping Derek underneath him like a giant clinging octopus makes him think that this is probably not Stiles hinting at Derek to get lost.

The answer comes soon enough when Stiles tightens his arms around Derek a bit more, throwing a leg over Derek’s for good measure.

“Stay,” Stiles says, scratching his nose against Derek’s chest.

“Okay…” Derek whispers into Stiles’ hair, and he feels Stiles relax against him again.

They stay like that for a while. Derek isn’t entirely sure how long, but it’s enough time for his leg to go numb where Stiles’ hip is resting against his thigh. Long enough for the come on his stomach to dry into a sticky mess. But Stiles is warm and reassuringly heavy on top of him, and Derek doesn’t move. Stiles’ breathing is even, but he isn’t asleep.

“So how long has it been for you then?” Stiles whispers after a while, his finger tracing along Derek’s ribs.

“Since I had sex in general, or…?” Derek asks, oddly calm at the question.

“Hmm, the last time you didn’t get a dick up your ass then?” Stiles smiles.

“You have such a way with words,” Derek jokes, squeezing his hand around Stiles’ bicep for a second.

“I’m a poet and I know it,” Stiles says, and Derek snorts, shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek says, and Stiles lifts his head - his grin wide as his face - and plants his lips on Derek’s.

“I couldn’t think of any cool euphemisms for ‘dick up the ass’,” Stiles says, still grinning.

“I’m actually kinda grateful for that,” Derek smiles back, gazing at Stiles’ face.

Stiles crosses his arms over Derek’s chest, leaning his chin on them, his face only inches away from Derek’s.

“Stick my man spear into your waiting hole?” Stiles smirks, teasingly.

“Oh my God,” Derek laughs.

“Put my dick mobile in your batcave?” Stiles leers, waggles his eyebrows at Derek.

“ _Stop_ ,” Derek chuckles, Stiles bobbing up and down on his chest as Derek laughs, “Please.”

“See, I already have you begging for more,” Stiles grins, smugly.

Derek laughs loudly, not even trying to compose himself, and he flips Stiles on his back, plastering himself on top of him.

“I refuse to believe a grown man would actually say these things,” Derek says, shaking his head as Stiles wriggles underneath him, fingers tickling up his side.

“You just refuse to believe you’re already hot for me again,” Stiles laughs, “Thanks to my awesome pick-up lines.”

“ _Despite_ your pick-up lines, you mean,” Derek says, his face hovering over Stiles’.

They look at each other for a second, a soft smile on Stiles’ face.

“Shower?” he proposes.

“Yeah,” Derek nods, dropping another kiss on Stiles’ lips before disentangling himself.

***

The shower is nice and soothing, and Stiles soaps up Derek completely, caressing over his ass gently. There are languid kisses and unhurried handjobs as they are both hard again. When they both come, and clean themselves up again, Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck under the warm spray of water. When he leans in, Derek thinks Stiles is going to kiss him, but instead he just buries his face in Derek’s neck and simply holds him, hugs him. And it’s so fucking nice.

They dry themselves off as they step out of the shower, and when Derek walks into Stiles’ bedroom again, he eyes his clothes that were thrown onto Stiles’ desk. Stiles comes to stand behind him, and for a second Derek thinks he might say something, but then he just presses a kiss onto Derek’s naked shoulder before heading for his closet and taking out a fresh pair of underwear that he slips on.

Derek reaches for his clothes, does his best not to look at the bed, warm and inviting, as he slowly dresses.

“You good to drive home?” Stiles asks, softly, and it’s not quite a request to stay over, but it makes Derek breathe a bit easier nonetheless.

“Of course,” Derek says, buttoning up his shirt and leaning in to kiss Stiles again. “We’ll do this again?” Derek adds, because he has to know.

“Definitely,” Stiles smiles, pressing a couple of loud, wet smooches on Derek’s lips.

Derek nods as he heads for the stairs, and Stiles comes to see him off by the door.

“Maybe we could - ?” Derek starts as he turns on the porch, but he stops himself in his tracks. He shakes his head with a smile. “Never mind.”

“You sure?” Stiles asks, hugging his arms around his naked chest in the cool night air.

“Go inside,” Derek says, “You’re gonna freeze out here.”

“Night,” Stiles says, slowly closing the door.

“Night,” Derek says, as the lock turns.

***

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I discussed the "euphemisms" in chat, and if I remember correctly it was Amy and Greenberg that came up with these fine examples that I included in the fic. So thank you, my lovelies!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a difficult day for Stiles, but Derek isn't having the best one either.

On the day of the anniversary of his mother’s death, Stiles always dresses nicely. He knows it doesn’t matter, but he wants to anyway. He remembers his mom’s excited face whenever he dressed up nicely, not just in hoodies or jeans, and the way she would compliment him, exaggeratedly even. And Stiles remembers how he used to be embarrassed about it sometimes, and that just made her coo over him more.

So on the anniversary of her death, Stiles picks out his nice pants, and a crisp white shirt, because she said he looked sophisticated in it, even as a little boy.

His dad manages to schedule long shifts every year, but Stiles understands. He doesn’t blame him. He knows that everyone has their own way of dealing with loss, and he would never judge anyone for it. In the morning, he gives Stiles an extra tight hug though. And Stiles thinks that if he ever were to ask his father to stay, he would. But Stiles has his own little traditions on this day, and that’s fine. They both learned how to deal with this over the years.

Before leaving the house, Stiles remembers the collection of Batman movies Erica has been bugging him to borrow, and so he throws them in his bag and decides to drop them off at The Pack on the way over to the cemetery. He passes by the florist as well, and decides to take an extra bouquet at the last minute, because he is nothing if not a gentleman, he thinks to himself.

He arrives at the sanctuary with DVDs in one hand and two bouquets of flowers in the other, pushing open the door with his shoulder.

“Hey Stiles!” Laura greets him, a sly grin on her face as he steps in.

“Batman!” Erica says enthusiastically, relieving him of the stack of DVDs right away.

“I need those back in perfect condition,” Stiles warns, as she’s already stashing them away in her bag.

“Don’t worry,” Erica says, rolling her eyes, “You know you can count on me.”

“You look nice,” Laura says, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I have a date at the cemetery,” Stiles says, and Laura immediately nods solemnly.

“You look lovely,” Erica says, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

“I know, right?” Stiles tries to laugh away, because it’s better not to dwell too much on things like these. “Okay, so…” Stiles says as he holds out the two bouquets of flowers. “White or pink?”

“Pink,” Laura says, determined.

“Here you go,” Stiles says, handing her the pink roses, which she immediately brings up to her nose to sniff.

“And the white ones are for me?” Erica grins, winking.

“No, those are for my mom,” Stiles says, “The pink ones are for the both of you, for the office. To pretty the place up a bit!” He grins and adds, “What, do I look like I can just afford to be handing out flowers to every pretty face I see?”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Erica says, squeezing his shoulder as she kisses him fondly on the cheek, and Stiles knows the kiss isn’t for the flowers, not really.

“Perfect gentleman,” Laura says, rummaging in one of the cabinets – probably for a vase – then adds astutely, “When he’s not sending porny texts to my brother.”

“What?” Erica shrieks excitedly, as Stiles groans.

“Derek is right, Laura,” Stiles says, exasperated, “You’re the worst.”

Laura just laughs, putting the flowers in a vase.

“Oh, you have to stay for lunch and tell me all about it,” Erica laughs.

“I can’t. Got my date, remember?” Stiles says, holding up his white roses, and it’s then that Derek walks in the office, seemingly surprised to see he’s there.

“Stiles,” Derek says, and his face isn’t open and warm like Stiles has come to know him on occasion now. His eyebrows are twisted in a frown, and when he looks over at Laura and Erica, they both look away hastily, like they didn’t just bring up the “porny texts”.

“Hey,” Stiles says, and again there’s an awkwardness as he doesn’t really seem to know how to greet Derek.

And Stiles wants to say more, wants to do… something. But then Derek is walking over to a desk, burying his face behind the computer screen, and promptly ignores Stiles’ presence. Stiles really doesn’t want to think about it too much. He’s got other things on his mind right now, and the place to try and understand Derek certainly isn’t in front of Laura and Erica. So Stiles turns towards the two girls, hugging the flowers against his chest.

“I better be off then,” Stiles says, and he sneaks another glance at Derek only to see him astutely refusing to recognize Stiles’ existence.

“Good luck, hon,” Laura tells him, pulling him into a quick hug.

“See you guys later!” Stiles waves as he’s by the door, loud enough for it to be directed at Derek as well.

Derek simply lifts his head a little, nods curtly and immediately focuses back on the computer screen in front of him.

Stiles guesses he’s not the only one having a bad day then.

***

The cemetery is somewhat cold, and the grass in front of his mother’s grave is damp but he goes to sit down anyway. He carefully places the flowers on the stone in front of him. He sits in silence for a while, just taking in the chilly air, the feel of his mother’s absence – and shouldn’t she be more present here than anywhere else though? – flowing through his veins.

After a while, Stiles starts talking. He talks about college, about the courses he’s taking, the exams that went well. He talks about his father, about how he’s working but that Stiles knows he comes by regularly anyway, because there are always fresh flowers or a potted plant on her grave. He talks about Scott, about the things the two of them have done lately. He’s almost surprised at himself when he hears himself talk about Derek too, like it kind of snuck up on him, the words out of his mouth before he even meant to say them.

For a bit, he hesitates to talk about Melissa, even though it’s ridiculous. His mother has been dead for thirteen years now, and Stiles thinks he knew her well enough to know that she’d have wanted his father to move on. On his own time, when he’s ready, but move on nonetheless. And Stiles loves Melissa so much. Even more so, _his mother_ loved Melissa so much. So Stiles starts talking after all. About the charity event and the date they won. About how Scott and him were torn between finding it just a bit odd and cheering them on. About how Melissa would take good care of his father, of him. And how they’ve always pretty much been a family anyway.

Stiles isn’t sure how long he sits there exactly, but the chilly dampness of the grass has reached his bones, and he’s shivering. His throat feels kind of sore, and it suddenly hits him like a brick to the stomach that this is all he’ll ever have of time with his mother again. And it’s not like he doesn’t _know_ this. It’s not like he hasn’t missed her in one way or another for every single day of his life since her passing. But every now and then, the knowledge is overwhelming. His eyes are full of unshed tears, and his breath is stuck in his throat. And for a second, he can’t remember what her voice sounded like, and he has to close his eyes and take a trembling breath before the overpowering sense of anguish consumes him completely.

He evens out his breathing eventually, and he gets his voice back enough to say goodbye to his mother before leaving, his fingers trailing over the tombstone as he gets up. He walks back to his Jeep quietly, but with a tug at his heart.

***

When Stiles parks his Jeep in front of his house, the absence of his father’s patrol car on the driveway weighs heavy on him. Stiles doesn’t know what to even do with the rest of his day. Somehow the thought of lounging on his couch and marathoning tv shows doesn’t seem appealing at all right now. He considers going to Scott’s for a second, but Scott knows what day it is today, and Stiles doesn’t want to see pitying faces – not even the one of his best friend, who obviously means well. But Stiles doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to think about what day it is anymore. He just wants to…

He’s got the Jeep out on the road again before he even realizes where he’s driving to, and despite the absolute lack of acknowledgement he got earlier. But there’s light in Derek’s apartment when Stiles gets there, and Stiles figures that the worst thing that can happen is Derek throwing him out.  

Stiles thinks that if he stays in his car too long, he’ll change his mind. And if he stands in front of the door without ringing the doorbell too long, he’ll change his mind as well. So he just steps out of the car in a hurry and does what he has to do.

Derek opens the door with a swing, and _Christ_ … He’s standing there in loose sweatpants and a white tank top, bare feet and his hair is all shaggy and wet like he just came out of the shower.

“Stiles?” Derek says, his face contorted in a questioning scowl.

“Listen,” Stiles starts, and he didn’t even realize he had a speech prepared. “I know you’re in a bad mood, or whatever. I mean, I saw your face earlier today at the sanctuary. But I had a really bad day, and the absolute last thing I want is to talk about it. So maybe we can commiserate?” He shakes his head, trying to compose himself a little bit. “And I know that you don’t even know me that well. And that you certainly don’t owe me anything, but I was just wondering if-”

Stiles is cut off by the hand on his neck, pulling him close roughly, and the lips on his that follow right after. There’s no finesse or chasteness this time around, Derek controls the kiss from the first second, probing his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, claiming it as his. It takes Stiles by surprise, takes him a minute to catch on, to get his brain to work again. But then Stiles’ arms fly up to curl around Derek’s shoulders, and he’s pressing his entire body up against Derek’s as blanket permission to pretty much do whatever the hell he wants with him.

He doesn’t really know what’s gotten into Derek, obviously the foul mood from earlier in the day hasn’t passed yet, but Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Derek’s hands were pulling his shirt out of his pants and shoving themselves against the small of Stiles’ back, gripping tightly. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Derek’s mouth was devouring him, tongue battling his.

“Derek, I…” Stiles gasps as Derek scrapes his teeth over Stiles’ jawline, and actually bites down, just the right side of pain. “Oh, fuck,” Stiles says instead, his hips bucking against Derek’s involuntarily. “Yeah, just… _yeah_.”

Derek all but drags him to the bedroom then, his eyes ardent and full of want as he shoves Stiles down on the bed. Stiles is fully hard already, this new found determination in Derek an incredible turn-on, and he’s already stripping off his shirt himself when Derek starts pulling at his pants. He’s completely naked within seconds, spread out on Derek’s bed, as Derek gruffly tugs off his tank top over his head.

“My turn,” Derek says, his voice low and gravelly, and there’s something dark in his eyes that Stiles can’t quite fathom.

“Yeah…” Stiles breathes, his hands already reaching out to Derek as he leans over on top of him, still dressed in his sweatpants with Stiles ready and pliant, naked underneath him.

Derek’s mouth finds Stiles’ neck again, and he isn’t being the least bit subtle while sucking bruises into the skin, alternating laving his tongue over the spot and scratching his teeth against it. Stiles is fumbling with Derek’s pants, slipping them down his hips and _fuck_ , Derek isn’t even wearing any underwear.

“Easy access,” Stiles pants, grinning, as he’s pushing Derek’s sweatpants down as far as he can reach.

Derek does the rest, chucking them off the bed quickly, and positioning himself between Stiles’ legs. He spreads them, hands gripping Stiles’ thighs, tugging him a little bit down the bed, closer to Derek. Derek’s mouth latches onto Stiles’ stomach, kissing and nipping at the skin there, while his fingers go straight for Stiles’ hole. They tease a little bit, circling around, while Derek sucks another hickey into his skin. Stiles feels like he’s going into sensory overload, Derek’s other hand now wrapped around his rock hard cock, giving a few strokes.

Derek lifts his head, nodding towards the bedside table. “Lube’s in there.” And Stiles rushes to reach it. He fumbles around the drawer, distracted by the way Derek is biting him on the hip, then rubbing his face over the skin like he’s _trying_ to cause stubble burn. Stiles finds the tube of lube, pushing it hurriedly towards Derek, because fuck, he feels like he’s ready already.

“Here,” Stiles says, and Derek quickly takes the tube and starts spreading it over his fingers.

Stiles is sure he felt condoms in the drawer as well, so he starts rummaging in it again, and he only bangs his hand against the top of the drawer once when Derek pushes a now slick finger into him.

“Yeah…” Stiles says, cursing himself for his incredible eloquence, as Derek slips in a second finger.

The burn feels oh so good, and Stiles’ fingers tighten around the condom wrapper, digging his head back into the sheets. He’s squirming underneath Derek, and he hasn’t even had a chance to properly touch him yet. Derek is sucking at his hip again, his breathing labored, and Stiles reaches out and threads his fingers through Derek’s hair - still damp - and grips it slightly. He means it as an encouragement, but Derek lifts his head and looks at him. He looks completely bewildered, like he’s in a world of his own, and Stiles is threatening to snap him out of it, which is the last thing Stiles wants.

“I need you to be actually fucking me within two minutes, okay?” Stiles says, adding a smile for good measure, because he needs to make sure that whatever he’s doing, he doesn’t break this insanely hot streak of primal desire they seem to be riding.

There’s a grin tugging at Derek’s lips, and he grabs the condom from Stiles’ hand as he slips in a third finger.

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles says, probably a little too loudly, Derek’s fingers stretching at his hole, opening him up.

Stiles’ cock is twitching against his stomach, leaking little drops of precome as Derek twists his fingers a little deeper. Stiles’ mouth falls open, his heels digging into the mattress, and he just needs Derek to hurry up now. Derek’s fingers slip out of him then, and Stiles whines at their loss. Derek tears open the condom wrapper a little too forcefully, and he curses as he actually rips the condom itself. Stiles is torn between laughing - because fuck, did Derek really want it that badly that in his haste he ripped apart the condom? - and groaning because of the delay.

“Fuck!” Derek mutters, throwing the useless condom and wrapper to the floor. “Please tell me I had more in there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles reassures him immediately, reaching out to grab another condom, opening it carefully himself.

Derek just looks wrecked, like he can’t believe he did that, and maybe Stiles really isn’t the only one that had a shitty day? Derek definitely seems to be working off some pent up frustration, and Stiles almost feels guilty for not taking the time to stop and ask him what’s wrong. But sometimes people just need to forget, need to bury themselves into something that comforts them, that helps them through it. And Stiles sure knows that that is what he is doing here tonight, and maybe Derek needs Stiles just as much as Stiles needs Derek in this moment.

“‘s okay,” Stiles mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows until he can reach Derek’s mouth with his.

Derek falls into the kiss, passionately, needy, and Stiles fumbles a bit but manages to roll the condom over Derek’s dick. Derek pushes him down on the sheets again, never breaking the kiss. Stiles hears the tube cap being opened and closed, and it doesn’t take long for Derek’s cock to be nudging at his opening. Stiles clutches at Derek’s shoulders as Derek pushes in, burying himself all the way into Stiles in one slick motion.

Stiles groans, fingernails digging into Derek’s skin as Derek is panting against his neck. Derek’s cock is bigger than the prepping fingers, and Stiles gasps while he adapts, the stretch slowly turning into pleasure. Stiles slides his hands down Derek’s back, cupping his ass and pulling him close. Derek takes the hint and starts thrusting, hurriedly. Stiles tries to match each push, his mouth seeking out Derek’s hungrily. They find a steady rhythm soon enough, Stiles clinging onto Derek as he shoves into him, roughly. When Stiles breaks the kiss to gasp for air, Derek’s lips latch onto Stiles’ neck again, sucking in another hickey like he’s fucking _marking_ him.

Stiles’ cock twitches at the thought, and he scrapes his fingernails over Derek’s back roughly, because maybe he can leave a mark or two himself? Derek’s hips snap into him, balls slapping against Stiles’ ass with each thrust. Eventually, Derek wraps his hand around Stiles’ leaking cock, starts jerking him off hastily. It doesn’t take long for Derek to shove in wildly before he spasms above him and comes, buried deep into Stiles. He collapses on top of Stiles’ chest, trapping the hand that is still around Stiles’ dick between them. Derek grunts out as he pushes himself up on his free hand reluctantly, and continues to jerk Stiles off.

After Stiles comes, probably harder than he’s ever come in his entire life, Derek rolls off of him, spreading out onto the bed with a low grunt, his arm resting on top of Stiles’ stomach.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight,” Stiles huffs with a laugh, catching his breath, “What pushed your buttons, but _damn_ , this was…” He breathes deeply, and he tries to blink away the white spots in front of his eyes. “I mean, fuck that was good. Yes, please, and remind me to send you a thank you letter!”

Derek does that mix between groaning and laughing he always does when Stiles acts like a giant dork that doesn’t have any inhibitions, but Stiles has to admit that he likes the sound. A lot. It feels like the real Derek, and yeah… maybe Stiles actually really likes the real Derek.

“Are you in the habit of writing thank you letters after sex?” Derek asks, his voice somewhat strangled as he’s still catching his breath.

“Dude, I don’t actually have sex that often,” Stiles says, scratching at his thigh - and ugh, streaks of come. “And when I do, it’s rarely _this good_ , okay?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Derek says, taking his hand off Stiles’ stomach to get rid of the condom. He ties it off and disappears into a room adjacent to the bedroom, which Stiles assumes must be the bathroom.

“You can print it on a gold plaque if you want!” Stiles calls out, and it earns him a chuckle from Derek.

Stiles hoists himself off the bed and joins Derek in what is indeed the bathroom. Derek throws him a wet washcloth, and Stiles starts cleaning himself up. When they’re done, Stiles begins collecting his clothes from the bedroom floor.

“Man, I’m thirsty,” Stiles says, “Did you fuck me into dehydration or something?”

“Possibly,” Derek just says, slipping on his sweatpants again, but when Stiles follows him back into the living room, Derek immediately grabs a bottle of water for him from the attached kitchen.

“Thanks,” Stiles says gratefully, and starts gulping down the water.

Derek is mostly quiet, but when he rubs his thumb over a spot on Stiles’ neck - no doubt where he sucked one of those huge hickeys - there’s the ghost of a smile on his face, which reassures Stiles a bit.

“Listen, I hate to get my orgasm and run right away, but…” Stiles says, apologetic, “I should get home. I kinda need to see my dad before he goes to bed today.”

“Okay,” Derek nods.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Stiles asks, putting the almost empty bottle back on the counter.

Derek nods, and Stiles leans in to give him a kiss. It feels kind of chaste and silly after the rawness from before, but Derek holds onto him as he kisses, just little pecks on the lips, and it feels kind of nice too.

“Thanks,” Stiles says as he’s one foot out the door, and he doesn’t even care how stupid it sounds. Derek was exactly what Stiles needed tonight.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek needs to make a decision.

_“Thanks.”_

That’s what Stiles said before he left Derek’s apartment. _Thanks._ Thanks for what? Thanks for the sex? Thanks for taking care of my orgasm because my _other_ date didn’t feel up for it tonight? Thanks for not asking too many questions and just tumbling right into bed with me?

Derek doesn’t even pretend to have any hope left of getting sleep tonight. He hasn’t been able to concentrate on a single thing since Stiles left. Since he fucked Stiles into the mattress, sucking and biting marks into his skin, and… Derek groans in frustration, tugging the comforter over his head to cover his face.

He’s in too deep. He’s in way over his head. He had absolutely no right to get so worked up over Stiles having been on another date. After all, Stiles never promised him anything. It was always very clear that this arrangement was just about sex, and only that. Stiles never pretended that it was about anything else. So no, Derek had no right to become so jealous, so envious of whoever Stiles might have been with today that Derek literally marked Stiles as… As what? As his own?

Derek snorts sadly, rolling over onto his side as he curls his legs up. Stiles was never his. Derek had no right…

Derek is an idiot. He knows this. Because he _knew_ what this was about for Stiles and he went and fell for him anyway. And he should’ve known that too, because it had been there from the very beginning. Okay, maybe not that first date, and maybe not even the first kiss - even though that was a pretty perfect kiss - but just… Once Stiles actually stopped trying to impress Derek - because yes, Derek thinks that that was what Stiles was trying to do during that awful first date - and started being his incredibly ridiculous, no-filter-for-his-mouth, brazen and quirky self… Derek had no defenses left. And it’s about the stupidest thing he could have done.

Derek sighs, resisting the urge to grab his phone and do something as unbelievably stupid as text Stiles.

No, Derek has to break it off. For his own sanity, for his own well-being. He can’t keep seeing Stiles this way, knowing he’ll only fall deeper and deeper, and that Stiles will end up breaking his heart anyway. And it wasn’t very stable to begin with.

***

At some point during the night, Derek must’ve dozed off after all, in between all the worrying and the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he thought of Stiles - which was pretty much all the time. He can’t remember when he finally fell asleep, but he’s being pulled out of it by his phone buzzing next to his ear.

He reaches for it reluctantly, sleep still clouding his brain.

**From Stiles :**

_Does a thank you text work just as well as a letter? ;)_

Derek squeezes his eyes shut and puts his cellphone back on his nightstand without replying. But he doesn’t fall back asleep.

It’s a second text from Stiles, about an hour later, that finally drags Derek out of bed.

**From Stiles :**

_Was gonna ask Allison or Lydia for advice on how to cover hickeys w/ make-up, but it’s too late anyway. Dad’s been mocking me all morning. Guess we’re 1 - 1 for that intercepted text by Laura. ;)_

Derek stares at the text way too long, before he finally deletes it - without replying. The thought of Stiles covered in hickeys - _his_ hickeys - is too much to handle, and Derek finally hauls himself out of bed and into the living room. He could probably do with a shower, but he just doesn’t feel up to it. So instead he makes himself some coffee and tries not to think about answering Stiles’ texts. He fails.

***

There are four more texts throughout the day - three more from Stiles, and one from Laura - but he ignores them all. Instead he spends the day in his sweatpants and an old shirt, curled up on the couch watching reruns of _Will & Grace_. Not that he’s in the mood for laughing, but at least it fills the room with noise, even though it does nothing to empty his head.

It takes exactly two days of ignoring everyone and everything around him - Stiles has tried to call a few times after his texts went unanswered, but Derek hasn’t checked his voicemail - for Laura to let herself into his apartment with her spare key.

“Normal people knock,” Derek calls out from where he’s sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to the television.

“Normal people answer their phones,” Laura counters, and Derek can immediately hear from her tone that she’s not in the mood. “I called you, like, five times.”

“Sorry,” Derek mutters, not meeting her eye.

“ _Jesus_ , Derek,” Laura says, tilting her head as she looks at him. “What’s going on?”

“PMS,” Derek shoots her a wrangled grin, grabbing the remote control and turning the volume of the tv up a bit.

“ _Ha-ha_ ,” Laura says, completely unamused, and she snatches the remote from him and turns off the television altogether.

“Hey!” Derek calls out, grabbing after the remote.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Laura asks, throwing the device in the comfy chair, out of Derek’s reach.

“Yeah, I’m gorgeous,” Derek snaps, bitter.

“Hey, what’s with the snark?” Laura asks, and she actually slaps him on the head for it.

Derek just clenches his jaw together, staring out in front of him. And Laura comes to sit down next to him on the couch.

“You look a mess,” Laura says, but her voice is softer now, understanding. “When’s the last time you took a shower? Combed your hair? What’s going on, Derek?”

“Nothing,” Derek shrugs, sinking a little deeper into the couch.

“Lets try that again then…” Laura says, pulling her leg up on the couch so she can face Derek.

“I’m wallowing, okay?” Derek admits with a sigh.

“Yeah, I get that,” Laura says, looking at him with a frown on her face, “And I haven’t seen you like that in a very long time, Derek. So I’m worried.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Derek says, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

“This is about Stiles, isn’t it?” Laura asks, and even the simple mention of his name feels like a punch in the gut to Derek.

“It’s over,” Derek says, and it sounds so stupid to his ears because there was never actually anything to begin with.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Der,” Laura says, a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“I just…” Derek sighs, shaking his head, “I can’t do it anymore. He’s… All he wants is casual, and sex, and I thought I could do that, I thought it wasn’t a big deal, but…”

“But you fell in love?” Laura asks, her eyebrows knitted together in worry.

The word ‘love’ hangs heavy in the air, weighing on Derek’s shoulders. It’s been so long since Derek felt like this, since he allowed himself to care about anyone like this and- _No_ , Derek thinks. He didn’t allow himself at all. It snuck up on him, completely without his permission. And it’s all Stiles’ fault, with his perfect perky nose, and his flawless dotted skin, and his liquid amber eyes, and his ridiculous sense of humor that reaches right into the pit of Derek’s stomach.

“It’s impossible not to,” Derek finally admits, hugging his arms around his own chest.

“I guess I see the charm,” Laura says with a sad smile.

“Yeah,” Derek huffs, “He kinda gets under your skin.”

“I’m sorry, Derek. I know I pushed you into this, and -” Laura starts, but Derek cuts her off.

“This isn’t your fault, Laura,” Derek says, “This is all on me. I should have never started sleeping with him. I should’ve known.”

“But you were unsure about it to begin with, and I didn’t help,” Laura sighs, “I know you, Derek. I knew that you actually liked him, that there was more to it for you, and I… I guess I just thought he’d feel the same way?”

Derek snorts halfheartedly. “When do they ever?”

“Derek, don’t…” Laura starts, but Derek is up on his feet, the air around him stifling.

“Spare me the clichés, okay?” Derek says, “All the ‘you’ll find someone’ bullshit. I don’t _want_ to find someone, alright? Because they never stick around, and they never actually care about _me_ anyway.”

“You know that’s not true,” Laura tries.

“And you know that it is,” Derek says, fixing Laura with a stare.

“Not everyone is like Kate, Derek,” Laura says, a sad look in her eyes.

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head, “Kate was only interested in her morbid fascination of our dead family. And Jennifer thought I was nice arm-candy to flaunt around. And Stiles is only interested in me for sex. And none of them actually cared about _me_ though. None of them gave a damn about supporting me. None of them loved me.”

“You can’t compare them. Jennifer was a bitch. And Kate was a psycho, who came entirely at the wrong time. The way she -” Laura spits out, scrunching her face up in disgust. And Derek knows that the memory still hurts her too. The way Kate’s only reaction to hearing about what happened to the Hale’s was wanting to see the corpses, was going on and on to Derek about how it must’ve felt when they all burned alive, was talk about ‘crisp skin’ and the smell and wanting to sneak Derek into the morgue because she was so fucking _fascinated_ by it.

_That_ was Kate’s reaction to finding out her boyfriend’s family had died. And Derek thanks the heavens for Laura, because between Kate and Uncle Peter taking care of them after the fire… Laura was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Stiles is different,” Laura says eventually, and Derek can hear that she actually believes it.

“He is,” Derek admits, and Laura smiles at him weakly. “Stiles never actually pretended.”

There’s a silence that covers the room, and Derek wonders for a brief second if he could get away with just going into his room, crawling under the covers, and sleeping until next month.

“Come on,” Laura says all of a sudden, getting up and grabbing Derek’s hand. “You’re taking a shower.” And she drags him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Laura…” Derek sighs, getting pulled along.

“You’re taking a shower,” she repeats firmly as she stops in front of the bathroom door, “And you’re putting on clean clothes. And we’re going out for milkshakes.”

“Laura…” Derek says, and he remembers how Laura always used to take him out for milkshakes when he was a kid and things got too tough. It’s a bittersweet memory, but Derek is still grateful for it.

“You can’t stay in and mope forever, Derek,” Laura says, “You need to clear your head, see that there are still things out there besides Stiles.”

“Like milkshakes?” Derek huffs.

“Yeah,” Laura smiles, and she pushes Derek inside the bathroom.

He contemplates his options for a few seconds after the door closes behind him, but he knows that Laura always gets her way in the end, so he starts stripping out of his clothes, throws them straight into the hamper, and reluctantly steps into the shower.

***

“See, you clean up nicely,” Laura says on the way over to the ice cream place.

Derek just hums in acknowledgement from the passenger seat, absentmindedly looking out at the street passing by.

“I took a look at the numbers this morning,” Laura starts, and Derek knows that she’s just trying to distract him, but in a way he’s grateful for it. “A bunch more people made independent donations since the auction.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks.

“It’s like we raised awareness or something,” Laura smiles at him, “I think we’re completely in the clear now.”

“That’s good,” Derek says, and he risks a tiny smile. The thought of maybe losing their parents’ legacy… he’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore.

“I was scared that, with you back, we would’ve had to let go of Erica,” Laura continues, turning another street.

“She’s a good worker,” Derek interjects.

“Yeah, I would’ve hated having to fire her, but she was the last addition, so…” Laura says. “And she’s become my friend, you know? Her and Isaac, they feel part of The Pack now.”

“Yeah,” Derek nods.

“But I checked the finances and we’re good,” she goes on, giving him a blinding smile, “This town really came together to help us out.”

“And to get dates,” Derek jokes, but he’s happy that something in their lives is going right at least.

“Oh yeah, that too,” Laura laughs, as she pulls into the parking space of the ice cream parlor. “There was quite a bit of matchmaking going on.”

“You’re a regular cupid,” Derek mutters, and he’s going for the handle of the door when Laura brusquely puts her hand on his arm.

“You know what? I don’t feel like milkshakes,” she says all of a sudden, “Milkshakes are overrated. Why don’t we go get burgers instead?”

“What? Laura, I…” Derek starts, but then he looks up and he sees.

Stiles. Stiles is standing at the doors of the ice cream place, a to-go cup in his hands. He’s talking to someone, a darker guy that Derek has seen before. Derek is sure he was at the bachelor auction as well, that he bid on one of the twins, and… The guy smiles at Stiles, taking the cup out of Stiles’ hand and taking a sip. The familiarity of it feels like a pang in Derek’s chest.

Is this the guy? The one Stiles had a date with the other day? Would they have kissed? Slept together? Derek feels sick at the thought.

When Stiles tilts his head, taking the cup back - and their fingers brush together, the other still smiling widely at Stiles - Derek can see the dark spot on Stiles’ skin, just peeking out of his collar. Derek left that there, he remembers vividly. He sucked that mark into Stiles’ skin as he was thrusting inside of him, Stiles hot and pliant underneath him. And in the moment, almost his.

Derek closes his eyes for a second, swallowing away the bitter taste in his mouth. When he opens them again, Stiles is throwing his head back, barking out a laugh.

“Get me out of here,” Derek mutters at Laura, his voice so broken that he doesn’t even know if Laura heard him.

But she’s nodding as she’s putting the car in reverse, and Derek has never been more grateful.

***

 TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles can only fool himself for so long...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thank you to Space, who continues to beta this monster of a fic even though I know she is pretty busy. Thank you so much, hon. <3
> 
> Also a big thank you to Juu, who makes me incredibly happy every single time I post a new chapter! Your reactions keep me going. 
> 
> FYI, I have finished writing! The last chapters and epilogue are written! So if anyone had worries about the fic not getting finished, no need! It's all done. It just needs to be finished being beta'd. :)

The car speeds out of there just as Scott and Lydia join Stiles and Danny outside the ice cream parlor.

“He got whipped cream on his milkshake,” Lydia states, as if Scott just committed a cuisine-based crime.

“It’s _good_ ,” Scott says pointedly, and Stiles knows that Scott always takes whipped cream on everything he can.

“It’s over-indulgent,” Lydia says, and Stiles is still staring at the spot that Derek and Laura just vacated.

Danny is saying something to Lydia, and Scott is slurping loudly on his shake, but Stiles’ heart is still trying to regain its normal speed after he looked up to find Derek sitting in the car in the parking lot. He laughed at something Danny said to cover up the startled cough that escaped him, because Derek hasn’t been replying to his texts and his phone calls in two days. And now he sees him hauling his ass out of there before Stiles can even go up and talk to him?

And fuck, he actually _misses_ the guy.

There’s a silence that shakes Stiles out of his reverie, and when he looks over at his friends, they’re all staring at him.

“Did you hear what we said?” Lydia asks, lips pursed together.

“No,” Stiles says honestly, because if there’s one thing he learned it’s to never try and fool Lydia.

“We’re leaving,” Danny says, gesturing towards himself and Lydia, “Get started on that project. But we’ll see you at the party in my dorm, yeah?”

“Of course,” Scott says, enthusiastically. “Isaac and Allison are coming too.”

“Great,” Danny says, and Stiles just nods at them.

Lydia gives him a weird look, but she heads off with Danny anyway, leaving Scott and Stiles alone. There’s a bench next to the parking lot, and Scott guides them over there to finish off his milkshake.

“So what’s up?” Scott asks, regarding Stiles carefully.

“I uh…” Stiles says, as he waves towards the parking lot. “Derek and Laura pulled up.”

“Oh?” Scott says, checking out the parking lot. “I didn’t see them.”

“They left right away,” Stiles says, watching the cup in his hands closely.

“ _Oh_ ,” Scott repeats, and he waits for Stiles to go on.

“I think he probably saw me,” Stiles admits, his head still down, fingers fumbling around the cup. “He’s been ignoring me for a few days now.”

“Why would he do that?” Scott asks, like he really couldn’t understand why anyone would blow off Stiles.

“Because he’s clearly not interested in me, Scott,” Stiles sighs, somewhat annoyed, even though he knows it’s himself he’s mostly annoyed with.

“You’ve got a hickey the size of a chicken on your neck to prove otherwise,” Scott says, nodding towards Stiles. He squints and mutters, “Kind of the shape too.”

Stiles’ hand comes up to cover the bruise instinctively. His fingers tracing over the impalpable but still very visible mark that Derek has left there.

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s over now,” Stiles shrugs, trying not to sound as bad as he feels.

“What happened?” Scott asks, his mouth twisting around the straw in his drink.

“I guess he got tired of me,” Stiles says, trying for breezy. “It’s kind of a miracle it didn’t happen earlier. I mean, have you seen the guy? Why would he even want to mess around with me, you know?”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Scott says, adamantly. “You’re a fucking catch.”

And it’s not that Stiles isn’t grateful for the absolute honesty with which Scott says it, but he simply has a hard time believing it. It’s obvious that Derek is way too good for him, and Derek probably figured that out for himself now. Which is understandable. What would Derek want with Stiles anyway?

“Hey, it’s fine, you know,” Stiles shrugs, aiming for nonchalant. “We were just fuck-buddies anyway. No big deal. I’ve still got my right hand, right?”

He winks at Scott, and Scott smiles weakly. “If you say so.”

He doesn’t look very convinced. And if Stiles is completely honest, he’s not sure he is either.

***

“Jesus Christ, Lydia, I missed _one_ party,” Stiles sighs, stretched out over the couch with his phone pressed to his ear, “It’s not the end of the world.”

“We haven’t seen you around in days, Stiles,” Lydia says over the phone, “You’re skipping classes. Scott told me he saw you the other day and he was pretty sure you hadn’t showered in a while.”

“Scott’s a snitch and he should know better,” Stiles snaps, annoyed, even though he immediately regrets it.

“Scott’s actually worried about you,” Lydia says, “And I’m beginning to think he has reason to.”

“Look, I’m a big boy, alright? I can take care of myself,” Stiles says, getting up off the couch and heading for the stairs as his father gives him a worried look - oh great, another one.

“Is that why you’ve been moping around the house, cutting yourself off from everyone, because you broke up with Derek?” Lydia asks, pointedly.

“I didn’t break up -” Stiles starts as he enters his bedroom, then sighs. “There was no break-up, okay? We were just… seeing each other for the occasional sex, and it was great, and now we’re not anymore. That’s it.”

“And why are you not anymore?” Lydia asks, because she’s obviously not letting this go.

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits, “He just, he stopped answering my calls. I guess he had enough?”

And the thought of Derek simply having had enough of Stiles, not feeling that need to be around him anymore, and not even telling Stiles this in person… it surprises Stiles at how much it hurts. How the thought of him not being important to Derek at all weighs heavy on his shoulders. And he doesn’t know why. They were a complete mis-match. All they were ever good at was…

“I just miss the sex, okay?” Stiles says, ignoring that gnawing feeling in his stomach as he forces a smile. “I’ve gotten used to it now. Gotten good at it too.”

“Are you sure it isn’t Derek you’re missing?” Lydia asks.

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Stiles snaps back, “I’m obviously not good enough for him anyway.”

“Or you went about this all wrong,” Lydia counters. “I mean, what happened before he started ignoring you? Something must’ve gone on.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Stiles says, frustrated. “I showed up at his apartment unannounced. Maybe that’s what he didn’t like? Maybe he felt like I was invading his privacy? I mean, it was stupid of me. That wasn’t our agreement. But I just felt like… like I needed to see him, and…”

Stiles stops himself, because he feels like he’s saying too much already, like he’s saying things he’s not ready to admit to, and he knows that Lydia will jump on it.

“You needed to see him because you were horny as fuck, or you just needed to see him?” Lydia asks, and sometimes Stiles hates the way Lydia doesn’t know when to rein in her brilliance.

“Lydia…” Stiles sighs, rubbing his fingers in his eyes.

“I think you know the answer yourself, Stiles,” Lydia says, “Even if you’re doing everything you can to deny it.”

“Maybe I just got addicted to sex and I’m going through withdrawal?” Stiles huffs, forcing out the joke.

“Maybe you know exactly what’s going on and why you’re in such a depressed mood these days and you’re still pretending not to know why?” Lydia counters, because she takes no shit for an answer.

“And how is that going to make me feel better, huh, Lydia?” Stiles asks, forlorn. “How is that going to make anything better about the fact that I’m worthless and I basically got dumped by a guy who wasn’t even my boyfriend?”

“That doesn’t mean you’re worthless, and you know that,” Lydia counters, “It means that maybe you wanted different things? That maybe you were simply incompatible? It doesn’t say anything about _you_ , Stiles.”

“Yeah…” Stiles says, laying down on his bed.

“You’re just saying ‘yeah’, but you really don’t believe one word I’m saying, do you?” Lydia asks, but she doesn’t sound annoyed.

“Sorry,” Stiles says sheepishly, wincing a bit.

“That’s okay,” Lydia answers, her own true self, “I know that deep down you know I’m right anyway, so…”

They’re quiet for a few seconds, and Stiles closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. He tries not to think about how he’s laying in the bed Derek has been in as well. Where Derek has held him. Has kissed him.

“You’ll be fine, Stiles,” Lydia says, and she says it with such conviction that he almost feels bad for not believing her.

“Yeah,” he says anyway, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

They don’t say much after that, except that he’s got very little wallowing-time left before Lydia will come and drag him out of the house by force, and Stiles laughs but he knows she’ll do it.

After they hang up, Stiles lays on his bed for a while longer. He looks at Derek’s name in his cell phone, at the unanswered texts, before he throws his phone on the nightstand a little too vigorously. He stares at his ceiling for a while, until his father knocks softly on the door. Stiles doesn’t answer, but the door opens carefully anyway, and John peeks his head into the room.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Stiles says, stretching his arms out above his head.  

“I can tell from the way you’ve been snapping at your friends and slacking around the house with a face like someone killed a puppy in front of you,” John says, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Stiles, shoving Stiles’ leg a little to the side to make room.

“I haven’t been…” Stiles starts, but his father fixes him with a stare.

“I know it started a few days ago, after the anniversary,” John says, and Stiles cringes that he kind of forced his father’s hand to bring up his mother’s death. “But I know you, Stiles, and I know that that’s not the thing that’s bothering you.”

“It isn’t, I’m sorry,” Stiles starts, because he feels kind of awful that his feelings about Derek have taken precedence over this.

“Son,” John says, a comforting hand on Stiles’ leg, “You don’t have to apologize for handling your mother’s death relatively well after all these years. Lord knows I haven’t been much help, and -”

“No, Dad, that’s not true,” Stiles says, sitting up as he faces his father, gripping him on the shoulder.

“I’m proud of how you’ve dealt with it, Stiles,” his father says, earnest, “Because I don’t want you to close yourself off, to not let people in.”

“Dad, you know me,” Stiles says, frowning, “I’ve got loads of friends. I let people in.”

“It’s not always…” John shakes his head, like he’s not quite sure how to bring things up. So Stiles just stays quiet and waits for his father to collect his thoughts.

“With the Hale fire…” his father starts eventually, and Stiles should have known that he didn’t even need to bring up Derek for his father to _know_. “I told you I was there, didn’t I? After?”

Stiles nods, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Derek was fifteen, Laura not yet eighteen, and the only family member they had left was their uncle, who…” his father shakes his head, “Peter Hale has never been a responsible one. In many ways, Laura took better care of Derek than Peter did. Not that Peter was a bad guy, he just… there wasn’t really a big emotional safety net for those kids.”

Stiles looks down at his hands, his fingers clenching around each other.

“Derek had a girlfriend at the time, a few years older than him,” John goes on, “When the fire happened, he was dating Kate Argent.”

“Allison’s aunt?” Stiles frowns, “Isn’t she…”

His father nods. “She’s been hospitalized for years now.”

“Derek went out with her?” Stiles asks, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. His father nods.

“Two nights after the fire, I got called in for a silent alarm in the county morgue,” John says, shaking his head sadly, “I was a deputy back then, and I wasn’t very far when the call came in. When I got there… I found Kate inside the morgue.”

Stiles swallows hard, his eyes fixed on his father.

“She had rolled out the cadaver coolers with Derek’s parents, his little sister…” John says, a grimace on his face, “She was taking pictures. Taking _samples_.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles says, swallowing away the taste of bile in his throat.

“She was morbidly fascinated by it. By the fire, by the deaths of these people she knew. It was… she was a very sick person,” his father continues, “The Sheriff arrived, put her into the squad car. And I went out the back, to check the point of entry. I found Derek outside.”

Stiles winces at the thought, his own fingers digging hard into themselves.

“He was sitting there, curled up in a ball against the outside wall,” John says, tilting his head at the memory. A sad look on his face. “She’d convinced him to come, to break in with her. She thought it’d be _fun_ , he said.”

And Stiles blinks away the wetness in his eyes.

“She had a hold over him… He was completely lost, and he sought comfort with the wrong person. And when he couldn’t go in, when he broke down outside the morgue, she just left him there and went in without him,” his father says, giving Stiles a sympathetic look.

“So she was in there, defiling _his family’s bodies_ , while…” Stiles’ voice cracks as he goes on, “... while he was sitting out there? All alone? _Her own boyfriend_?”

“We called Laura,” John says, taking Stiles’ hand in comfort. “She came, and she took care of Derek. Things got better for him. And Kate… well, she got the help she needed.”

“But how could she…?” Stiles starts, his entire body aching in pain for Derek. “She was his girlfriend, in the most difficult time of his life, how could she…?”

“I don’t know, Stiles,” his father says, rubbing his hand over Stiles’ shaking arm. “I’m just saying… We all have our relationship crosses to bear.”

Stiles nods, sniffs as he brushes his hand over his face. And his father pulls him into a hug then, rocking him back and forth gently as Stiles finally lets the tears spill down his cheeks.

***

He hasn’t quite made it into the shower yet - even though he promised his Dad he would when the Sheriff left for work - when the doorbell rings. For a moment, Stiles is sure that it’s Lydia, making good on her promise to come drag him out of the house. But when he opens the door, it’s Laura that pushes past him immediately, with a raised voice.

“ _You_! Are a little piece of shit!” she calls at him, making her way straight into the house.

“What?” Stiles asks, confused, as he closes the door behind him.

“You heard me!” Laura snaps, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Was it really necessary to do all that to my brother?”

“Do all what?” Stiles bites back, scuffing his bare feet over the floor as he walks past Laura, into the living room.

Because fuck it. He hasn’t showered in days, he’s thrown on worn clothes, and even _he_ can tell his breath stinks. And that’s all Laura’s brother’s fault, and now she walks in here like she owns the place and starts yelling at _Stiles_?

“It’s your fucking brother that started ignoring me!” Stiles barks out, throwing himself down on the couch with a huff.

Laura comes after him, regarding him curiously from the door opening.

“Oh, _you little shit_ …” she sighs, almost sadly, as the hardened features in her face smooth out.

“What?” Stiles asks, and he tries hard not to snap.

“You’re just as bad as he is,” Laura mutters, shaking her head.

Stiles doesn’t even want to know what she’s talking about. He’s just about done with being talked at like a child.

“You know, Stiles,” Laura starts, pacing around the room. “I like you. I really do. But Derek is my brother and you have no idea how much we’ve been through and how much I love him. So you better start getting your head out of your ass real quickly and fucking do something!”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, his tone rising, “Like what? Huh? Become a supermodel all of a sudden? Get a better personality so your brother will finally be into me?”

Because that’s it, isn’t it? _That_ ’s what he wants. He wants Derek, all of Derek, and he’s just been too fucking stubborn to admit it. Because this was never part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to _like_ Derek. He wasn’t supposed to laugh at his lame jokes. He wasn’t supposed to fall for that ridiculous smile. He wasn’t supposed to start craving those indescribable eyes on him. He just wasn’t.

“You’re both such idiots,” Laura sighs, and she looks at him with something very close to pity in her eyes, and Stiles just wants to disappear.

“You’d think we’d go better together then, huh?” Stiles snorts, self-deprecating, raking a hand through his hair.

Laura just shakes her head at him, like she can’t believe him.

“Such idiots,” she repeats, and she ruffles a hand through his hair before she disappears out the door.

Stiles is left sitting on the couch, bewildered. He sighs and grabs the bag of potato chips on the coffee table and digs in.

He doesn’t think he’ll shower today.

***

 TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avoidance can only take so long, and finally Stiles and Derek are forced in the same room again.

“Stop. coming. in. without. _knocking_ ,” Derek grits through his teeth as Laura lets herself into his apartment again.

She completely ignores him, and starts babbling right away. “Derek, listen. I went to see Stiles, and he’s just doing really bad, okay? You have to talk to him.”

“For fuck’s sake, Laura!” Derek snarls, because he has _zero_ patience for this today. He has a headache that’s killing him, and the ache for Stiles is even worse. “Will you please just stay the hell out of this? This is none of your business!”

“Derek…” she says, taken aback.

“You’ve done enough already!” Derek barks out, and he feels kind of bad for putting this all on Laura, but he’s simply not in the mood for her incessant meddling.

“Fine,” Laura says with a huff, crossing her arms in front of her. “There’s no talking to you anyway.”

“Then why do you keep trying?” Derek snaps back, and he doesn’t even wait for an answer before he strides off into his room, slamming the door loudly for good measure.

He leans back against the door until he hears Laura leave the apartment.

It doesn’t take long.

***

Laura comes back the next day, and she actually knocks on the door and waits for Derek to answer. Derek figures this is her peace-offering, even though he probably has just as much to apologize for.

“Hey,” she says, and waits until Derek takes a step back and gestures for her to come in.

He closes the door behind her, and waits for her to start.

“So,” she says, and she actually looks kind of bashful, which is a sight Derek is sure he’s never seen before. “I was hoping you would let me take you out tonight, as compensation for my continuous meddling into your business. I made reservations at this place I know you’ll love, and it’s all my treat, and please Derek, just say yes?”

She’s turned on the sad pleading “puppy” look, big eyes looking at him imploring him to agree. He sighs, because he can feel his resolve crumbling under her stare.

“You don’t have to do that,” Derek tries.

“Please, Derek,” Laura says, “It would mean so much to me. And you need to get out of the house. You’ve been a wreck for days now. It’s time to pick up the pieces and actually talk to people again.”

“Fine,” Derek says, because the days being cooped up in his apartment are starting to take their toll on him.

“Yay!” Laura squeals, clapping her hands together. “Now go take a shower, trim that beard a bit, and put on something nice. I can’t be seen with you if you stink.”

“There’s the sister I know and love…” Derek mutters with a weak grin, but he follows her orders anyway and heads off to the bathroom.

“Take your time,” Laura says, smiling, as she plants herself down on the couch and grabs the remote. “Reservations aren’t until seven.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek sighs, and he shuts the door behind him.

***

The waitress leads them to their table, which is all the way in the back. The table is nicely decorated, a bottle of wine already at hand, with a candle in the middle, and… it looks oddly romantic.

Laura sneaks into the chair with her back against the wall, and Derek faces her. She smiles sweetly to the waitress, who announces she’ll be right back. Derek looks at the tiny vase with the single flower next to the candle, and when he glances over at the other tables, he realizes that theirs is the only table to have one.

“Laura…” Derek frowns, looking around in confusion. “What’s with the romantic setting?”

“I have to go use the ladies’,” Laura says in a rush, slipping out of her chair as she shoots him a smile. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

And then she’s gone, and Derek is none the wiser. He sits there in silence for a bit, his fingers tracing over the petals of the flower, waiting for Laura to come back. Only, she doesn’t. And the voice he hears behind him is distinctly not Laura’s.

“Wait, Lydia, what are you - ?”

Derek’s head whips around at the sound of Stiles’ voice, and he can only barely see Lydia hurry out, leaving Stiles standing there in confusion. He freezes when he finally sees Derek, and Derek groans quietly and twists back around, burying his face in his hands as he rests his elbows on the table.

“Uh, yeah, no, I think this is the wrong table,” Stiles tells the waitress awkwardly, and Derek’s stomach clenches at the sound of his voice.

“There’s been no mistake, Sir,” the waitress says cheerfully, leading Stiles towards the chair Laura was sitting in a few minutes ago. “This is your table, gentlemen.”

She waits until Stiles reluctantly sits down, then takes the bottle of wine out of the cooling bucket and starts opening it. Stiles is looking everywhere but at Derek.

“Laura…” Derek nearly growls, because _of course_ she’d pull something like this.

Stiles groans, almost pained, and says, “Laura and _Lydia_.”

The waitress starts pouring their wine, but Derek pushes himself up from the table, his chair screeching back over the floor, and says, “I should go. Leave you to the table.”

Stiles gapes at him with an open mouth, and Derek takes a few steps away from the table until he realizes…

“What?” Stiles asks, and he actually sounds concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“Laura drove me here,” Derek says with a sigh, and he slinks back into his seat, “All the way across town, of course…”

“Lydia insisted we take my Jeep,” Stiles says, eyeing him carefully. “They probably left together already, Laura waiting for Lydia in the parking lot. You know what they’re like…”

“I’m beginning to learn,” Derek says, his eyes fixed down at the table.

“I can, uh…” Stiles starts, his shoulders shrugging a little, “I can drive you home.”

Derek thinks for a second, but he really doesn’t feel like paying a fortune for a taxi because he knows Laura will never pay him back anyway, so he nods, and says, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods back, gesturing towards the door, “So…?”

And Derek is halfway up off his seat when the waitress is back, with a huge tray of food.

“Please, sit down,” she smiles overly friendly - and Derek just _knows_ she’s a friend of Laura’s, “We’re about to start the tasting menu.”

Derek drops back down in his seat, and he looks over at Stiles when the waitress utters the words “tasting menu”. Their gazes lock for a second, and then Derek can’t help but snort, and Stiles cracks a huge smile.

“They think they’re fucking funny,” Derek snorts, and Stiles is nodding, his smile almost blinding.

“Well…” Stiles says, eyeing the food as the waitress leaves them with a knowing smile. “This actually looks a lot better…”

He checks out the food, and… yeah, okay, he has to give it to Laura and Lydia. He thinks he spots about three of his favorites at first glance, and… are those…?

“Curly fries,” Derek nods with a smile, and Stiles’ eyes twinkle as he grabs one and eagerly shoves it in his mouth. Derek has to look away when Stiles licks his lips.

“So,” Stiles says, suddenly subdued, like he remembered what their situation is. “We could eat first? Not let this go to waste? And then I’ll drop you off at home?”

There’s a beat, but then Derek bobs his head. “Yeah, alright.” And he starts digging in, following Stiles’ example.

“They’re quite the pair,” Derek says, his head ducked.

“Tell me about it,” Stiles says, “Lydia can be downright scary when she wants to be. She basically showed up at my place, called me pathetic, and shoved me into the shower. She even brought clothes for me to wear.”  

Derek looks over at Stiles, at the fitted shirt he’s wearing, that defines his shoulders perfectly. He bites back the comment that Lydia did a good job. He’s not ready to flirt yet.

“She told me we were having dinner together, that I really had no choice, and that I had better behave,” Stiles adds, with a weak smile.

“Sounds too much like Laura not to be scary, to be honest,” Derek answers.

“What did we do to deserve this, huh?” Stiles asks, toying around with a curly fry on his plate.

Derek isn’t sure he knows how to answer that without opening up all the wounds.

The rest of dinner is actually quite pleasant. They avoid the touchy subject of what happened between them, or why Derek hasn’t been returning any of Stiles’ calls, and focus on the good food, on safe subjects like their friends and family. Stiles’ eyes go soft and compassionate when Derek mentions that as much of a pain in the ass as Laura is, she’s the only real family he’s got left.

Dinner goes by quickly, and by the end of it, Derek realizes he’s actually smiling and enjoying himself. Stiles seems to be too. He certainly ate more than last time they did this, and the conversation - though clearly staying lighthearted and breezy - isn’t stilted or awkward. And the realization of how _good_ Derek feels in Stiles’ company stings at Derek’s chest.

At the end of the meal, the waitress informs them that the check is all taken care of before wishing them a pleasant evening.

“Damn, if we’d have known,” Stiles jokes as they head over to his car.

“I would’ve ordered a fifty year old Scotch or something,” Derek muses.

“We could’ve ordered menus and menus of stuff to go, and dropped it off at a homeless shelter,” Stiles says, like he’s just had an epiphany.

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, then squints his face, “Although… would you really want to risk their wrath?”

“Hmmm, maybe not,” Stiles says, contemplative.

When Stiles parks in front of Derek’s apartment, there’s a silence that fills the car as Derek realizes that this is the part where they say goodbye, and that this time, it’s pretty final. It’s a dull ache in Derek’s chest, and he doesn’t quite know how to bring the words out.

“Stiles…” Derek starts, pained, as he turns towards Stiles in the car.

But then Stiles is leaning in, closer to Derek, and there’s a fraction of a second where Derek just wants to let Stiles kiss him, one last time. But he knows that he’ll never be able to stop, and that this is just an endless circle of disappointment and wanting what he can’t have, so he pulls back, holding up his hand to stop Stiles from reaching him.

“I… I can’t,” Derek says, shaking his head as he closes his eyes, bringing his hand up to Stiles’ chest, his fingertips burning where they’re holding Stiles back. “Stiles, I just…”

Stiles pushes himself back down in his seat, his face closed off as he stares out ahead of him.

“Okay, just… Yeah. Goodnight,” Stiles says, his voice strangled, as he refuses to look at Derek.

Derek sighs, rubs his hand over his face, thumbs pushing into his eyes.

“Why do I feel like I’m the one rejecting someone here?” Derek laments, a ball of unease forming in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a scoffing sound from Stiles before he snaps, “Maybe because you are?”

“Are you kidding me?” Derek calls out, indignant, “Because I don’t want to be second choice anymore? Because I don’t just want to be a fucking booty call to you?”

“Second choi-, what are you even talking about?” Stiles asks, and he looks somewhere between lost and annoyed.

“Stiles, I _know_ about that other date you had, okay?” Derek says, exasperated.

“Are you high?” Stiles asks, completely confused, “What other date?”

“Don’t lie to me, Stiles,” Derek says, softly, because that’s the one thing he just couldn’t take right now. “I was there, okay? I heard you talk to Laura and Erica about it.”

“What?” Stiles frowns, “Where? When?”

“At The Pack!” Derek snaps, “That day you came to my apartment! I know you had a date before you came to me, I know you… I don’t know how it ended, why you came to me instead of…”

Derek sighs, and Stiles’ face is suddenly opening up in comprehension.

“Oh my God, Derek,” Stiles says, “You thought I got stood up, or blown off, or whatever? And that’s why I came to you?”

“That wasn’t the reason then?” Derek huffs, dubious.

“ _No_ , you idiot!” Stiles says, and he actually smiles for a second, which just gets Derek’s blood pumping even more. But then he goes on, “I didn’t have a date, Derek. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but…”

“That you had a date,” Derek says, firmly, “That’s kinda hard to misinterpret.”

“Yeah, except that it was a date at the cemetery,” Stiles explains, and it shuts Derek right up. “I was visiting my mother’s grave, Derek. It was the anniversary of her death.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Derek feels like the ground underneath him has opened up and is pulling him right down there.

“I had flowers for her, I… It wasn’t a _date_ -date, Derek, I swear,” Stiles says, softly.

“Oh my God…” Derek whispers, sagging down into his seat. He feels like all the blood has left his face.

“It’s been thirteen years,” Stiles goes on, “I… Remember when Scott and I told you about the bets we placed, at the hospital?”

“The codes, yeah…” Derek says, his voice rough.

“I spent a lot of time at the hospital back then,” Stiles says, thoughtful. “My Mom was very sick. Scott and I, we pretty much lived there during that time. Mom used to babysit Scott when Melissa was at work, and then when she fell sick… Well, we were always there. And Mom, she didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers, a twist of guilt in his chest.

“When I called it a date, and was acting all… all tough, I was just trying to…” Stiles trails off, he shrugs.

“Trying to hide that you were sad?” Derek fills in for him, and Stiles nods. “I…” Derek tries, “I’m sorry, Stiles. I didn’t realize.”

“I didn’t know you’d heard that,” Stiles says, earnest, “And I certainly didn’t know that you cared like this.”

“So when you came to my apartment?” Derek asks carefully.

“I needed comfort,” Stiles shrugs again, like he doesn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. “I needed…”

“You needed sex?” Derek asks, because he has to know.

There’s a silence that fills the car, and Derek is just about to cut his losses and get out of the car, because he seriously can’t do this anymore, when Stiles finally whispers, “I think… I think I needed you.”

Derek stares at him, in disbelief. At this beautiful guy sitting next to him, who’s made himself all small and turned into himself, who’s staring down at his hands in his lap, who’s never been more vulnerable. And Derek thinks that there must be a catch, that he isn’t saying what he’s saying.

“Stiles, I… I can’t do this casual thing anymore,” Derek admits, and Stiles looks up at him, “I need to know that this is more to you than sex, that I am more to you than that.”

“I didn’t think you’d want that,” Stiles says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I thought you really didn’t like me all that much, and…”

“I do,” Derek rushes to say, and he doesn’t care that he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve, he simply can’t have any more misunderstandings.

“O-okay,” Stiles nods, swallowing hard. Then he lets out a tiny smile. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, risking a smile of his own.

“So what do we do now?” Stiles asks, unsure.

“I thought maybe… we could date?” Derek suggests, hesitantly. “No sex, not right away anyway. Like, just dating, hanging out together. So we can get to know each other?”

Stiles nods, but his smile seems tense and hesitant.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, bracing himself for the answer that this is not at all what Stiles wants.

“You don’t have to do that, you know…” Stiles smiles weakly, his fingers twisting together, “If you’re not into me, I mean, if you don’t want to have sex anymore, you can just say it.”

“What?” Derek frowns.

“I mean, you don’t have to pretend, or like… play with my emotions like that, dude,” Stiles goes on, a pained grimace on his face, “I’m just… this skinny guy who knows you’re way out of my league anyway. It’s fine.”

The words get stuck in Derek’s throat, and so he surges over, pulling Stiles in with his hand against his cheek and kisses him fervently, desperately. He takes Stiles by surprise, but after the initial shock, Stiles opens up eagerly underneath his mouth, coaxing Derek’s tongue in. Derek squeezes his eyes shut, twists his tongue around Stiles’, savoring the feel, the taste. Stiles makes a tiny noise against him, his hands now firmly gripping Derek’s neck, like he’s afraid to let go. Derek feels like there’s a ball of warmth rising in his chest. He’s missed this. He needs this.

The angle he’s leaning over the console of the car is awkward, but Derek doesn’t care. Stiles’ lips are pressed against his, and his fingertips are digging into his skin, and there’s the unmistakable taste of Stiles in his mouth, and it is all well worth a crick in his neck or an ache in his back. Until Stiles starts pushing against him, pushing him down into his seat and crawls over the middle section of the car, right into Derek’s lap. He doesn’t even break the kiss while doing so, just slides onto Derek, straddling his legs on both sides. The space is cramped, but Stiles is wriggling in his lap, his tongue devouring every inch of Derek’s mouth.

Derek’s hands find the small of Stiles’ back, and it takes everything he has not to give in and slip them below the waistband, slide them over Stiles’ beautiful ass. Stiles pulls back from the kiss, only to drag his lips over Derek’s cheek, over the stubble, desperately and hungrily pressing kisses over Derek’s face. Derek draws a shuddering breath, leans his head back against the rest as Stiles makes his way to his neck, tongue lapping right under his jawline.

His cock is straining in his pants, painfully hard, and even Stiles grinding down slightly into his lap isn’t enough to provide the necessary friction. Stiles is hard too, Derek can feel it, but he isn’t making any indication of doing anything about it, just keeps his hands firmly above Derek’s waist, teeth now scraping at Derek’s chin.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mutters, nose pressed against Derek’s face. “‘m sorry…”

Stiles drops his forehead on Derek’s shoulder, panting heavily, and Derek tries to collect his thoughts.

“I’m very much into you,” Derek says, his voice uneven, “That’s the problem. I’m so into you, I’m in way over my head. And I don’t even know you. When you showed up at my door, and I thought you’d been on a date with someone else… I just went insane with jealousy, even though I had no right. I just can’t stand the thought of sharing you.”

Stiles lifts his head to look at Derek. He’s sitting motionless in Derek’s lap, his hands still on either side of Derek’s neck, trying to regain his breath.

“I want to _date_ you,” Derek says, “Not just fuck you. So please… Please go out with me next Friday?”

Stiles is staring at Derek, his lips bright red from kissing and stubble burn, his eyes crossed as he stares from Derek’s mouth to his eyes. And he just nods, swallowing as he blinks his eyes a few times, as if he’s trying to compose himself.

“Okay,” he says eventually, his voice rough as he’s licking his lips, “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, relief surging up in his chest.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, his face breaking open in a smile, “I… I really want that.”

“Oh, thank God,” Derek smiles, lolling his head back against the headrest of the car, his fingers squeezing Stiles’ back slightly.

“Nope, just me,” Stiles grins, and Derek thinks he might cry at how stupidly happy that silly joke from Stiles makes him.

“Idiot,” Derek says fondly, as Stiles is still grinning down at him.

“Okay, uhm…” Stiles says finally, as he starts squirming a bit in Derek’s lap. “If we’re to uphold this ‘no sex for a while’ rule, I uh… well, I need to go home and jerk off before I cream my pants.”

Derek barks out a laugh, running his hands up Stiles’ back, and says, “Please don’t ever change.”

“Couldn’t if I tried,” Stiles smiles, then his eyes narrow down on Derek’s mouth, his face turning serious again as he says, “Can I just…?”

And he doesn’t wait for an answer before he presses his lips down on Derek’s. No tongue, no urgency, no presage for sex. Just the simple feel of Stiles’ lips on his, and when he pulls away, Derek chases the taste.

“I needed that,” Stiles smiles softly, and Derek chokes out a sound, nodding.

They stare at each other for a bit, before Stiles opens the passenger door and inelegantly slips off Derek’s lap, into the cool outside air. Derek follows suit, pressing down his erection before he gets up, and Stiles smirks at him.

“I told you,” Derek says, leaning into Stiles a little bit, without touching. “It’s not that I don’t want you, ‘cause Lord knows I do.”

Stiles nods, like he finally understands. “You want more.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, because he truly does. He wants it all.

“I do too,” Stiles says, and it sounds better than any three words Derek has ever heard.

***

 TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they're finally on the same wavelength... Could it be time for some actual dating?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incredibly talented Girleverafter did the most amazing thing and created [the most beautiful](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/74629590779/girleverafter-closer-than-most-for) [book cover](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/74626479338/girleverafter-a-mockup-of-a-closer-than-most) for this fic! Please go check it out and reblog/like! It is stunning and it made me cry!

Stiles isn’t ashamed of the fact that he jerked off twice in the morning before his date with Derek. He’s really not. If he’s to uphold to Derek’s request of no sex - they’ve decided on a month - then he’s going to have to take care of himself first. Because Derek is hot, okay? Seriously, mind-blowingly, scorching hot. And Stiles still can’t really believe that he basically wants… to be Stiles’ boyfriend? That he wants it all, the dating, the affection, all of it. That he actually _likes_ Stiles, the way… well, the way Stiles likes Derek.

So yeah, Stiles is going to be a good boy, and stick to their agreement, and show Derek that he is serious about this. That he can keep in mind the things that are important to Derek. That he can prove just how great they could be together, on _all_ accounts.

But that means that Stiles has to not instantly pop a boner the second he sees Derek, and after knowing exactly the way Derek’s body feels against his, all sweaty and hard, twisting underneath or above him, little sounds escaping him and… Oh fuck.

Stiles takes another long shower in preparation for his date.

***

“No, but honestly, look at it!” Stiles laughs, pointing at the giraffe that is currently staring at them, munching away on some leaves.

“There might be a… ressemblance,” Derek says, grinning, tilting his head as he regards the animal.

“I swear to God, they were hatched from the same egg or something,” Stiles laughs, bumping his shoulder slightly against Derek’s.

“You know that that is not the way giraffes reproduce, right? Or people, for that matter.” Derek winks at him, a goofy smile on his face, that says he’s obviously kidding. “I’m just saying, like… it would physically hurt me if you thought that...”

“Oooh, Mister Hale, the biologist,” Stiles jokes, and he has to stop himself before he leans in and kisses Derek right smack in the middle of his gorgeous, smiling face.

“Mister Stilinski, the college student that thinks giraffes lay eggs…” Derek teases, while the giraffe in question seems to have had enough of their gawking and casually strides off.

Derek and Stiles continue their walk through the zoo, quietly strolling over to the next animal enclosure.

“That dude at the entrance was rude though,” Stiles reiterates, because he all but bit Stiles’ head off for not finding his student discount card right away.

“Anger management issues,” Derek nods in agreement.

“Probably a tiny dick too,” Stiles smirks, stopping in front of the zebras.

“On top of that face like a giraffe?” Derek says, grimacing. “ _Ouch._ ”

Stiles barks out a laugh, and it scares one of the zebras that was slurping from the water divider between the animals and the visitors.

“Oops,” Stiles says, putting a hand over his mouth as the zebra hops off, stirring a few others as well.

“Menace,” Derek laughs, and he slips his arm through Stiles’ and guides him away from the zebras.

It feels nice, Derek’s arm hooked into his, a little moment of closeness, and Stiles smiles down at their intertwined limbs. When he looks back up, Derek is staring at him with a soft smile on his face.

“You know you can come near me, right?” Derek asks, an amused frown on his face.

“I…” Stiles stutters, looking back down as he strokes his hand over the sleeve of Derek’s jacket gently. “I just don’t want to… overstep any boundaries, or…”

“And you have no idea how much I appreciate that,” Derek says, his hand sliding down to twist his fingers between Stiles’. “But we can still walk hand in hand around the zoo, right?”

“I…” Stiles says, then feels Derek’s fingers squeeze his hand, his thumb rubbing gently up and down Stiles’ skin. “Yeah. Totally.”

***

**From Derek :**

_I ran into your father at the store today._

Stiles looks up from his phone to look at his dad, who is staring at the television from the other end of the couch.

**To Derek :**

_Is this the part where you tell me you’re moving back to Alaska because he gave you some kind of “if you hurt my son” speech?_

Stiles presses send and waits.

**From Derek :**

_You know your dad actually likes me?_

Stiles grins down at his screen, and ignores the way he feels his father’s eyes on him. He also ignores the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Derek being in wonder that his father likes him.

**To Derek :**

_I did, actually. You seem to have a way with Stilinski men._

He shoots his dad a grin, who just shakes his head smiling and turns his attention back to the tv.

**From Derek :**

_You did? Well thanks for letting me know. I felt like a complete idiot, trying to butter him up._

Stiles grins, the thought of Derek acting all nervous around his father suddenly seeming like the cutest thing ever.

**To Derek :**

_I miss you._

Stiles doesn’t take his eyes off the screen until Derek’s reply comes in.

**From Derek :**

_Nice deflecting._

Stiles bites his lip, but he doesn’t have a lot of time to be disappointed by the lack of response to Stiles’ admission when a second text comes in.

**From Derek :**

_I miss you too, by the way._

Stiles stares at the screen for a long time, and he can’t believe it took him this long to realize that the fluttering in his stomach whenever Derek does something like this was more. More than what he thought it was.

He debates his answer for a second, then his thumbs are twiddling over the screen, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

**To Derek :**

_Pfff, you only saw me yesterday and you’re missing me already?_

He’s being a little pest and he knows it, but Derek asked him never to change, so he’s really not going to.

**From Derek :**

_You’re awful and I don’t know why I’m dating you._

Stiles’ heart jumps a little at the word ‘dating.’

**To Derek :**

_That’s a total lie. I’m irresistable._

**From Derek :**

_You’re something alright._

“Invite him over for dinner tomorrow,” John says all of a sudden, and it actually startles Stiles.

He looks up to find his father smirking at him, looking down at Stiles’ phone.

“How did you…?” Stiles asks, but John simply grins.

“I know that smile of yours, son,” his dad says, looking over at the television again. Stiles couldn’t even say which program they’re watching anymore. “Have him come over for dinner. Melissa is coming too.”

Stiles rolls the cell phone around in his hands a few times, and asks, “Dad, are you finally actually dating Scott’s mom? Like, for real?”

John presses his lips together for a second, then grabs the remote control to turn off the sound.

“Would you be okay with that?” he asks, regarding Stiles carefully.

“Dad, yeah, of course!” Stiles all but yells out. “Melissa is awesome! And it’s so obvious you’re both so into each other. I think it’s great. I’m so happy for you both.”

“Yeah?” his dad asks, and Stiles can tell there’s a huge weight dropping off his shoulders.

So Stiles pushes himself up from his lazy slouch on the sofa, and reaches over to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders.

“Yeah, dad, totally,” he says, pulling him into a quick but tight hug.

John squeezes back just as tightly, before they break away and Stiles lets himself fall back into the couch cushions. John blinks his eyes a few times, then grabs the remote control again with a sniff and turns on the sound.

“Tell him to come over tomorrow,” his father says, a content smile on his face.

“Okay,” Stiles smiles back, fingers swooping over the screen on his phone.

**To Derek :**

_Dad asks if you want to come over for dinner tomorrow evening._

“You’re not gonna horribly embarrass the both of us, right?” Stiles asks, after sending the message.

“Son, don’t you know me?” John says in reply.

“That’s why I’m asking!” Stiles counters, indignant.

“I might mention that interesting afternoon out on the porch that Mrs. Lubenfeld told me about, of course…” John says innocently, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

Stiles sputters in protests, calling out in a whine, “ _Da-ad!_ ”

John simply grins, when Stiles’ phone vibrates in his hands.

**From Derek :**

_Do you want me to?_

**To Derek :**

_Dad will pull out every embarrassing childhood story he has on me, every embarrassing story he has on US, and he’ll be annoyingly perky and trying to impress Scott’s mom (who’s coming too)_

He waits a second after pressing send, then adds…

**To Derek :**

_But yeah, I’d really like you to come. No pun intended._

It doesn’t take long for Derek to answer.

**From Derek :**

_How can I say no to all of that? I’m there. :) Also, your puns are awful._

“He eats meat, right?” John asks.

“Now how did you even know he said yes?” Stiles asks, shaking his head amused.

But his dad just smirks and Stiles focuses his attention back to his phone.

**To Derek :**

_You love my puns._

***

“No, no, no!” Stiles cries out the second Derek steps out of the changing room, “That is just cheating!”

Derek freezes, taken aback, then arches his eyebrow at Stiles.

“That!” Stiles squeaks, gesturing his hands towards Derek’s entire body, and Derek looks down at himself for a second. When he looks back at Stiles, he actually has the nerve to look all innocent and confused.

“How am I supposed to not think of sex when you’re…?” Stiles waves his hand in Derek’s direction again, at the perfectly sculpted body, covered only in the tightest, all-revealing black swimming shorts.

“You realize you were the one that suggested we go swimming, right?” Derek asks, shoving his swim bag into one of the lockers, leaving his towel on top for easy access.

“I didn’t think this through,” Stiles groans, rubbing his hands over his face.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Derek says, sliding a hand over Stiles’ shoulder as he passes by him to head out to the pool.

Stiles gawks at him as he walks away, his eyes being pulled by that perky round ass, stretching out the flimsy material of Derek’s shorts. Stiles bites his bottom lip, _hard_ , before following Derek out into the pool area.

***

“Do you want another slice?” Stiles asks, nudging his head towards the chocolate cake that’s left over on the coffee table.

Derek puts his hand on his stomach as he shakes his head.

“I couldn’t eat another bite,” he smiles from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, his elbow resting on the couch. “It was all so good though.”

“So my plan to seduce you with food worked then?” Stiles winks, getting up to put the remainder of the cake in the fridge.

“You know you don’t need food for that,” Derek calls after him.

Stiles chuckles, puts the rest of the food in the fridge - maybe his dad will like some when he comes back from his night shift? - and trots back into the living room to find Derek has moved _onto_ the couch.

“Kind of easy, are we?” Stiles smirks, plopping down on the couch next to Derek, only their legs touching.

“Not really,” Derek says, tilting his head to the side and watching Stiles intently. “Only for you, it seems.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, shifting so he’s facing Derek. He rests the side of his head in his palm, elbow on the back of the sofa.

“I uhm…” Derek starts, and he looks down in his lap for a second like he’s considering going on or not. But then he finally speaks again. “I don’t have the best track record opening up to people, to be honest.”

Stiles nods quietly.

“There is some stuff that happened,” Derek says, his fingers playing with the edge of one of the cushions. “Stuff that makes it kinda hard to get attached to someone, to trust someone…”

“The fire?” Stiles asks softly, nuzzling his ankle reassuringly against Derek’s leg.

Derek nods. “For one, yeah.”

Stiles doesn’t say he’s sorry. He knows it doesn’t do any good anyway. And he knows that Derek knows he is anyway.

“I’ve made some… bad choices, I guess?” Derek goes on, “When it comes to dating.”

Stiles nods, but doesn’t say anything. No matter how much he’d like to scream that he’ll strangle Kate Argent if he ever actually meets her, for what she’s put Derek through.

“I opened up to the wrong people, didn’t want to see that they were wrong for me…” Derek says. “And I’m always afraid that I’ll do it again, so I just stopped trying. But then you came along, and…”

“I am not the wrong person,” Stiles says, because he wants to reassure Derek so badly. “I mean, I won’t do that shit to you, Derek. I just won’t. I won’t deliberately hurt you like that. I won’t betray you. I… would never…”

He shakes his head, thinks back to the things Kate has done to Derek.

“Your dad told you, didn’t he?” Derek says, a soft smile on his face, and he’s not upset, he’s not angry at Stiles for knowing.

Stiles looks at him, puts his hand over Derek’s. “He told me some. Enough to pull my head out of my ass, I guess.”

Derek can’t help but smile a little, his fingers twitching underneath Stiles’ hand slightly.

“I know you’re different,” Derek says, “I know that now.”

“I’ll make mistakes,” Stiles says, because he’s nowhere near perfect, “I can be such an idiot sometimes, but…”

“You have your heart in the right place,” Derek fills in, his eyes soft on Stiles.

“I have for you,” Stiles answers, and Derek turns his hand around underneath Stiles’, palm pressed against palm.

They stay quiet for a while, just looking at each other, Derek’s fingers gently caressing Stiles’ hand. Until they start talking again, Derek asking Stiles all kinds of questions. Silly things like what kind of sweet-tooth he is - Reese’s, always Reese’s - or what his morning ritual is. But also about previous relationships, about what he wants in life, about his mother, about his insecurities, about everything. And all the while, Derek listens. Derek listens like he wants to know every last thing there is to know about Stiles. Like even the smallest things are important and fascinating.

And Stiles reciprocates, asking a million questions of his own, some getting more absurd as the time passes.

“ _Oh my God._ I should be getting home,” Derek laughs when it’s three in the morning and Stiles starts talking about food as bathing suits, and how pasta would easily wrap around most body parts.

He doesn’t though, just smiles fondly as Stiles lays out the pros and cons of lasagna - “Wet, of course! I mean, _come on_ , Derek! That just speaks for itself.” - and Derek makes absolutely no indication of actually putting an end to this date.

Stiles isn’t sure which one of them falls asleep first. The last thing he remembers is the side of Derek’s head resting against the back of the couch as he’s gazing at Stiles, their fingers touching.

When he wakes up, there’s a second of not knowing where he is, or why there’s an uncomfortable ache in his back. He blinks his eyes open, smacking his lips together to chase away the dryness in his mouth, and he finds Derek’s face close to his. Their hands are still linked together, knees touching, as they’re both curled up towards each other against the back of the couch. Derek’s eyes are still closed, eyelashes fanning out over perfect skin. His breathing is slow and even, escaping quietly through pink and slightly parted lips.

There’s a rustling in the kitchen that makes Stiles lift his head - it’s probably what woke up him up too - and then his father is sneaking out of the kitchen with a donut stuck between his teeth as he’s shaking off his Sheriff’s jacket. He puts the jacket over the back of a chair as he gives Stiles a broad but tired smile, biting off a piece of the donut.

“Night shift alright?” Stiles whispers, as not to wake up Derek.

John nods, then smirks as he looks at Derek, still asleep on the couch.

“Date went well, then?” he whispers back.

“Yeah,” Stiles says softly, looking over to Derek’s sleeping form before addressing his father again. “I guess it did.”

“Get that boy some breakfast as compensation for having to sleep on the couch, yeah?” John winks before he bounds up the stairs, heading for his bed.

A few minutes later, Derek stirs, eyelashes fluttering up as he opens his eyes and looks goofily at Stiles.

“Did we fall asleep?” he asks, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, finally rolling over in a slightly more comfortable position and stretching out. “Wait,” Stiles says, smirking at Derek, “Isn’t this breaking the rules?”

Derek shakes his head, smiling. He mutters something under his breath that might be, “You little shit.”

***

“Look who’s here to check out my brother,” Laura smiles as Stiles enters the sanctuary.

“I am taking him to lunch,” Stiles says, waving to Erica who is sitting by Laura’s desk.

“So that’s why he’s been in a good mood all morning,” Laura smirks.

“I have that effect on people,” Stiles winks, and Erica snorts in reaction.

“He’s out back, with Isaac,” Laura nods towards the back door. “They should be finishing up one of their guided tours right about now.”

Stiles skips out the back, just in time to see Isaac crouched down to receive big hugs from a few school kids, the teachers meanwhile trying to corral them onto the bus. Derek is smiling as a little guy with crooked glasses and floppy blond hair starts howling at him like a pro. Derek promptly joins in, quickly followed by pretty much the entire class. The kid high-fives Derek, a big ball of energy, and then hurries over to one of his teachers while enthusiastically babbling about wolves and packs and how cool the “wolf dudes” were.

Derek spots Stiles just as Isaac is helping the last of the kids on the bus, and gravitates towards him.

“Hey,” Derek smiles.

“ _Wolf dude_ , huh?” Stiles beams, grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Cool_ wolf dude, I’ll have you know,” Derek smirks.

“Well, if you’re gonna get technical, you have to share the credit with Isaac,” Stiles says, looking back over to the bus, where one of the teachers is still talking to Isaac. She’s brushing her hand over his arm - and oh, Stiles so knows that move - while Isaac smiles politely but is taking minute steps back, trying to create some distance between them.

“Oh, someone’s getting hit on,” Stiles whispers, amused.

“Is there anyone in Beacon Hills that isn’t in love with Isaac?” Derek chuckles. “He already can’t seem to choose between Scott and Allison.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on that,” Stiles huffs out, “Scott is being ridiculously mysterious about the whole thing.” He turns to Derek. “By the way, as much as I like Isaac, I’m still one of the few that definitely isn’t in love with him.”

“Yeah?” Derek smirks, smoothing his fingers over the collar of Stiles’ shirt. “So I have nothing to worry about then?”

The smile on Derek’s face is irresistible, a tiny twinkle in his eye, and Stiles groans as he puts his hands on Derek’s chest, saying, “I wanna kiss you so badly.”

“Then why don’t you?” Derek asks, fingers still on Stiles’ collar, his thumb swiping over Stiles’ jawline.

“You made rules,” Stiles whispers, his face gravitating closer and closer towards Derek’s, like it has a will of its own.

“We can kiss,” Derek murmurs, tilting his head slightly, and _just_ right for Stiles to…

Stiles’ lips catch Derek’s for a second, barely the ghost of a kiss.

“I said no sex, for now,” Derek whispers, his breath vibrating against Stiles’ lips. “But we can do this, we can…”

And then Derek fills the barely-there gap between them and presses his mouth firmly against Stiles’. He sucks Stiles’ bottom lip between his, slides his tongue over it, teasingly. Stiles moans, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck as he tries to keep his heart from jumping in his chest, but it’s Derek, and Derek’s mouth, and Derek’s tongue, and Derek’s everything. And Stiles realizes that he’s so completely and utterly in love with this man, it’s not even funny anymore.

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Isaac mutters when he passes them, and when Stiles pulls away he notices the bus has taken off and Isaac is heading for the offices.

“Got rid of your suitor then, eh, Isaac?” Stiles grins, still clinging onto Derek.

“Go back to your kissing, Stilinski!” Isaac calls out before he disappears out of view.

“Good idea,” Derek mutters, and everything else Stiles was going to say gets silenced by Derek’s lips.

***

TBC 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have they finally got it all figured out now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, this is the final chapter! I would like to give a HUGE thank you to Space, who has beta'd this entire fic for me! Thank you so much, hon. I know how much work you put into it! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who brainstormed with me, live-tweeted, left comments, made fanart/gif sets for it, etc! Thank you so so much. You're what kept me going. 
> 
> I'm a sad it's over, but also quite proud of this fic. So I'm hoping you'll all enjoy it. <3

A month, they had agreed on. And Derek has to admit that he’s actually quite nervous about the whole thing. Stiles has been absolutely amazing during this last month, and Derek honestly has no idea how he got to be so lucky. Their dates have been kind of perfect, there’s no denying it. Even with the lack of sex, which Derek feared might be a problem for Stiles, but clearly he was wrong about that. Yes, Stiles ended their dates with a boner on more than one occasion - Derek too, by the way - but he never complained, never pushed. On the contrary, sometimes he seemed even hesitant to touch Derek, afraid of overstepping any boundaries. Until Derek had to make sure that kissing and making out was quite alright, and had to snog the living hell out of him just to get his point across. Which resulted in more unattended boners, of course.

But now the month is over, and they both know what that means, and Stiles told Derek that he was taking him out, some place nice, and to be at his house at seven.

So Derek shaved the day before - because he knows Stiles loves that one-day stubble - and trimmed in other places and maybe he even plucked his eyebrows a tiny bit, just a few stray hairs. He’s freshly showered, wearing his best underwear, and yeah… he’s fucking nervous. He doesn’t even know why, because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex, and it certainly isn’t the first time with Stiles, and he already knows they’re so fucking good at it and… maybe that’s it? Maybe Derek simply cannot believe that everything in his life seems to be going right, _finally_.

“How do you always look so hot?” Stiles says by way of welcome as he opens the door. Derek laughs, and Stiles goes on, “I keep thinking you must be knocking on the wrong door or something.”

“Definitely not,” Derek says, dropping a gentle kiss on Stiles’ lips as he steps into the house. “You know I’m all yours.”

Stiles beams, tugs him into the hallway completely as he shuts the door behind Derek.

“Okay, so…” Stiles starts rambling, “I know I said we’d go out to a restaurant or something, but there’s been a change of plans. I got my dad to give me the house until tomorrow. He’s off to Melissa’s, and I really don’t want to think about what they might be doing there, since he’s obviously staying over. But at least it gives us the place to ourselves, and I actually cooked, and yeah, okay, I’m not the most brilliant of cooks, as you already know since you’ve eaten here before, but you said that you liked it anyway, and I did my best to make something I knew you’d like, and…”

Okay, so maybe Derek isn’t the only one that’s a bit nervous here tonight.

“Stiles!” Derek interrupts, smiling as Stiles looks at him, bewildered, shaking out of his monologue. “Breathe?”

Stiles inhales sharply, then his face cracks open in a smile.

“Sorry,” he says, a little flushed, a smile tugging at his lips.

Derek looks from his flustered face to the table that’s been set beautifully. There’s romantic music playing softly in the background, and tealights on the cupboard. The napkins on the table are even folded in some sort of flowery shape. When he looks back at Stiles, he finds a face so hopeful, so open and full of wonder it makes Derek’s breath stick in his throat for a second.

“Is this...?” Stiles starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I wanted to do something nice for you. To make it… you know.”

Derek nods, a ball of affection swelling in his chest, and he can’t help but put his hands on either side of Stiles’ face and pull him in for a searing kiss. Stiles’ surprise is muffled by Derek’s lips, but his hands find Derek’s waist instantly, as they slip around and hang onto him.

“Are you…?” Derek says against Stiles’ lips. “The food? Is it at risk of burning?”

Stiles shakes his head minutely, his forehead resting against Derek’s. “No, it’s… the sauce needs to be heated up, and I haven’t cooked the pasta yet.”

“Good,” Derek says, and he slides his hands underneath Stiles’ butt and lifts him up off the ground, Stiles’ legs circling his waist.

Derek nips at Stiles’ bottom lip with his teeth, before swiping his tongue out and laving that spot. He takes a few steps towards the stairs, Stiles hot and heavy in his arms. Stiles’ arms are clinging around his neck, and he laughs as Derek reaches the stairs.

“You gonna carry me all the way up there?” Stiles asks, dropping little kisses all over the side of Derek’s face, wiggling his hips a little to squirm against Derek.

“Uh,” Derek considers, because Stiles is deceivingly heavy, he’s all muscle and no fat, and Derek wants to get reacquainted with all of him very quickly.

“I’d kind of like you to still have enough energy to make me come a couple of times,” Stiles whispers, licking a stripe up Derek’s cheek with his tongue.

Derek laughs, and he lets Stiles slip down, until his feet reach the ground again.

“A couple of times?” Derek quirks an eyebrow.

“You have no idea,” Stiles grins, and then he lets out a surprise ‘whoop’ as Derek tugs his arm around his back and lifts him up by his thighs to swing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “What are you doing?” Stiles squeaks, laughing as Derek starts going up the steps.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” Derek laughs as he strides up, carefully but swiftly.

“You do,” Stiles says, and it doesn’t sound flippant at all.

Derek carries Stiles right into his bedroom, dropping him right smack in the middle of the mattress.

“You gonna ravish me now?” Stiles asks, propped up on his elbows, legs sprawled out on the bed, looking up at Derek expectantly.

Derek licks his lips, taking in the sight in front of him that kind of takes his breath away.

“Derek…?” Stiles says, his smile softening, like he knows exactly what’s going on in Derek’s head, and he locks his gaze with Derek as he asks, “Are you gonna make love to me?”

It should sound so stupid, so trite, but the way Stiles says it… it makes Derek’s breath hitch in his throat. He nods as he gets his knees up on the bed, not trusting his own voice, and he dips down to kiss Stiles.

“Yes,” he finally whispers against Stiles’ cheek, nose pressed into his skin.

“Good,” Stiles whispers back, pulling Derek down on top of him.

Derek falls easily between Stiles’ open legs, and Stiles splays the tips of his fingers on Derek’s forehead, sliding them back, raking them gingerly through Derek’s hair. He tugs gently when he reaches the back of Derek’s head, playfully, affectionately. Derek kisses him, dragging his lips over Stiles’, before opening up to let their tongues meet. Stiles is warm and solid underneath him, his fingers cupping Derek’s neck, occasionally sliding to scratch over stubble, to comb through Derek’s hair.

Stiles’ thumb lingers over the pulsepoint of Derek’s neck, and Derek is sure he can feel his heart racing, not so much at the anticipation of sex, but at the anticipation of _Stiles_.

Derek’s hands find their way under Stiles’ shirt, connecting with warm, smooth skin. Fingertips glide over Stiles’ ribs, resting to flick at his nipples, causing him to wriggle underneath Derek. When he pinches one of the already hard buds, Stiles thrusts up against Derek in reflex, and Derek smiles into the kiss at the feel of Stiles’ hard cock pressing against his hip.

He breaks away their lips as Stiles pulls at his shirt, tugging it over his head to cast away somewhere on the floor. Stiles reaches up to nip at Derek’s chest before Derek jerks off Stiles’ shirt as well, taking advantage of Stiles’ raised arms to dip down and nuzzle his armpit, darting out his tongue as he laps up Stiles’ heavenly musk.

“Fuck…” Stiles breathes, letting his head fall back on the sheets, his arm going slack against the mattress as Derek continues nosing his way from Stiles’ armpit over to his collarbone.

“You smell so good…” Derek mutters, pressing open-mouthed kisses against Stiles’ skin.

“Derek,” Stiles whines, tilting his head as he hungrily seeks out Derek’s mouth.

The kiss is sloppy and full of need, and Stiles lifts his legs up, placing his feet flat on the mattress as he starts thrusting up his hips against Derek’s in an attempt to create more friction. His hand explores its way down Derek’s naked back, nails scratching teasingly over the skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the waistband of Derek’s pants, just dips down under the elastic of his underwear and cups Derek’s ass with his palm.

Derek is already rock-hard and panting, his tongue toying over Stiles’ lips, playing against Stiles’ tongue. Then Stiles brings up his hand abruptly, and he holds Derek’s gaze as he sucks his middle finger deep into his mouth. It’s absolutely obscene as he slides his bowed lips over the digit, his eyes never leaving Derek’s. He rests the now wet finger right in the middle of Derek’s bottom lip, and Derek opens up for him, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue circles Stiles’ finger wetly, Stiles’ taste in his mouth, his teeth pressing down just teasingly against a knuckle before Stiles slides it out from between his wet lips. He immediately occupies Derek’s mouth with his own again, capturing pouted lips between his, as he brings his hand back down and swiftly slides his wet middle finger between Derek’s ass cheeks. Derek spasms against him for a second when Stiles presses the slick digit right into Derek’s opening. He gasps as he tries to control his breathing, chin resting against Stiles’ temple, his hand gripping Stiles’ hair as he clenches his muscles around Stiles, reveling in the sensation.

Stiles is sucking on his jaw, eagerly, as he pumps his finger in and out, his free hand grasping around Derek’s waist. He doesn’t add another finger, doesn’t push to get Derek off already, just thrusts his finger in and out to get Derek worked up nicely. Derek gasps into the kiss, sucking in the breath straight out of Stiles’ mouth, who is still pushing his hips up rhythmically underneath him. Derek’s cock is leaking in his pants, straining between their bodies, as he clenches down powerfully on Stiles’ finger before Stiles slips it out.

“We’re wearing too many clothes for this,” Derek whispers, rubbing his cheek against Stiles’ in an attempt to break the kiss and untangle himself from Stiles’ embrace.

“You’re always wearing too much,” Stiles says, his breath harsh, as he slides off the bed with Derek, his hands already working the buttons of his pants.

“Yeah?” Derek asks, grinning.

“On the other hand,” Stiles says with a smile, “We’d get arrested a million times over for indecent behavior if you wore less clothes in public.”

Derek huffs out a laugh as he steps out of his pants, his hard dick bobbing up from underneath the waistband of his boxers before he slides those down too.

“You behaved at the swimming pool,” Derek says, plastering his chest against Stiles’ back, as he helps him push down his pants. Stiles grabs something out of his pocket - a condom and a small packet of lube, and Derek tries not to smirk at Stiles’ preparation - and lets it fall onto the bed.

“Barely,” Stiles pants, Derek’s head dropping down on his shoulder to start kissing.

Stiles brings up his arm, hooks his hand behind Derek’s head as he arches his back into the touch, Derek’s hand sliding over his hipbone. Derek’s cock nestles against the perfect round curve of Stiles’ ass, and he can see Stiles’ cock fully hard as he licks and nips his way over Stiles’ shoulder, tongue swirling over every single mole he can find there. Stiles’ fingers caress in his hair, prickling his scalp, and he tilts his head back so he can kiss Derek, messily and open-mouthed. Derek slides his hands over Stiles’ chest, kissing his way over Stiles’ jaw to his ear, sucking the earlobe between his teeth for a second.

Stiles brings up his hands over Derek’s, tangling his fingers between Derek’s as he holds them close against him. Derek bends his knees a little, sliding his cock down under the curve of Stiles’ ass, and Stiles instinctively brings his legs closer together, creating more friction for Derek to rub his dick between Stiles’ thighs.

Stiles makes aborted little sounds, leaning back into Derek’s embrace, and Derek reaches down to wrap his fingers around Stiles’ cock, squeezing at the base. Stiles hums in approval, his cock jumping at the touch. He grabs Derek’s hand for a second, licking his tongue all the way over the palm before Derek curls it around Stiles’ cock again, stroking in earnest now. He keeps kissing and sucking at the nape of Stiles’ neck, as he thrusts his own cock underneath Stiles’ ass, the tip sliding between Stiles’ thighs in the rhythm of his strokes.

“What do you want?” Derek whispers, his arms curling around Stiles’ torso, as Derek presses his face into the skin of Stiles’ shoulder, holding Stiles as tightly as possible against his chest. Because Derek wants to give Stiles whatever he wants, whatever he needs in this moment, in all the moments to come.

“Want you in me,” Stiles whispers, Derek’s nose nuzzling under his jawline. “Derek, I want… I want you so badly.”

“Okay,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ skin, his hands roaming over Stiles’ chest and stomach, “You have me. I’m all yours, you know that.”

“Yours,” Stiles repeats, and Derek’s heart clenches at the sincerity in Stiles’ voice.

He tightens his arms around Stiles’ chest, lifting him up off his feet for a second to position him in front of the bed. Stiles tilts his head to the side to meet him in a kiss again, as Derek’s hand starts stroking Stiles’ cock again, palm twisting over the head. He gets his other hand down to caress over the V of Stiles’ hip, sliding down under his balls for a second, before bringing it back between their bodies, fingers teasing at Stiles’ opening. Stiles pushes his hips back into the touch, then thrusts forward into the tight circle of Derek’s fist, and Derek takes his time gently fingering him open, making him fall apart. Stiles leans his palms against the bed for balance, whimpering quietly as Derek opens him up, skilled fingers disappearing into Stiles’ warmth.

“I missed this,” Stiles whispers, his breath ragged, tilting his head back to lean on Derek’s shoulder.

“I know,” Derek mutters, face pressed into Stiles’ neck, “I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t,” Stiles says, hastily, “That’s not… I didn’t mean…” He’s trying to regain his composure while he’s squirming against Derek’s body, his breath rough and hitching. “I…” Stiles mutters, pushing Derek’s hand off his cock, surely to prevent coming already.

“ _I know_ ,” Derek whispers, his somewhat sticky hand now flat on Stiles’ chest, over his heart, and he can feel it racing a million miles an hour. “I missed this too, even though I… I was the one that… I just needed to know that my feelings were…”

“They’re reciprocated,” Stiles rushes out, trying desperately to catch Derek’s gaze with wide, sincere, amber eyes. The heartbeat underneath Derek’s palm is frantic, and Derek knows that this is a big deal for Stiles as well.

He catches Stiles’ lips in what he hopes is a reassuring kiss, as his fingers slip out of Stiles’ opening and he circles his arms protectively around Stiles’ chest.

“Please?” Stiles whispers, reaching for the condom on the bed and handing it to Derek.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Derek hushes, his lips on Stiles’ cheek as he carefully opens the wrapper. Because dammit, he _loves_ Stiles, he is sure of this.

“I think I can make an educated guess,” Stiles says back, his hand caressing over Derek’s arm, and it makes Derek’s stomach flutter.

He rolls the condom over his dick, coating some lube over it, as he strokes over Stiles’ buttcheek with his clean hand. Derek kisses Stiles’ shoulder, lingering to bite at the tendons in Stiles’ neck, and Stiles is practically shaking with need in his arms. So he lines himself up as Stiles leans forward to brace himself on the bed, and Derek starts pushing in slowly, heat engulfing him. He steadies himself with an arm hooked around Stiles’ chest, pressing his face into Stiles’ spine, puffing small breaths against Stiles’ skin as he pushes all the way in, Stiles vibrating around him.

Stiles whimpers as he adjusts to Derek, falling forward on his elbows the second Derek leans back and takes hold of his hips.

“Okay?” Derek whispers as he reaches around to stroke Stiles’ leaking cock again.

“You ruin me,” Stiles breathes out, sagging down completely onto the mattress, his legs hanging off the bed as Derek carefully starts to thrust into him.

Stiles ducks his head between his shoulders and gasps at every stroke. Derek bites his bottom lip, his eyes focused on the moles dotted over Stiles’ back, the way his muscles are contracting, the way he’s biting down on the sheets, muffling his moans as Derek pushes into him. He puts his hands flat over Stiles’ ass, his thumbs rubbing over the small of Stiles’ back. Stiles is hot and tight around him, clenching down as Derek speeds up a bit. His cheeks are flushed, he can feel it, and he’s swallowing his urge to tell Stiles he loves him because dammit, that is not something you just blurt out for the first time while being ball’s deep into someone.

So Derek leans down over Stiles, curves his arms underneath Stiles’ shoulders as he plasters himself all over his back.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek whines against Stiles’ neck, soaking in the heat radiating from the body that is wriggling underneath him, pushing back his hips to meet Derek’s thrusts. “I just…”

“I know,” Stiles answers, sounding absolutely destroyed, and he twists to the side a bit, lifting his arm so Derek can slip his head underneath, Stiles immediately seeking out Derek’s mouth for a messy kiss.

The mattress dips at every thrust, and the room is filled with gasps and moans, sounds of pleasure escaping them both.

Derek puts his hand underneath Stiles’ torso, and Stiles scrambles to put his knees up on the bed, crawling up a bit further to get more comfortable. Derek’s cock slips out of Stiles as he does so, but Stiles quickly rolls over onto his back as Derek kneels on the bed and grips at Stiles’ thighs when he lifts his legs, spreading them wide for Derek. His mouth hangs open, his eyes fixed on Derek. He gives his own dick a few strokes, before letting out a grunt and bringing his hands up to caress over Derek’s forearms.

“You’re beautiful,” Stiles blurts out so honestly that it makes Derek huff out a laugh, which causes a blush on Stiles’ face.

“I missed that too,” Derek says, taking a moment to collect himself, holding the condom at the base of his dick.

“Me complimenting you?” Stiles asks, a sly smile on his face. His hands keep rubbing up and down Derek’s arms.

“You having no filter,” Derek says, smiling down on Stiles. “You being so absolutely and completely _you_.”

“You like me?” Stiles asks, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip, coyly.

“I…” Derek swallows, leans down so he can press his face against Stiles’ cheek. He whispers, “You know I do. You know how much.”

“I like to hear you say it,” Stiles says, his arms curling around Derek’s neck.

“I’ll say it to you over and over again,” Derek says, sincerely, “In all the different ways. I’ll show it to you, I promise.”

And it feels like a heavy promise but Derek makes it so easily. Because it _is_. Because he loves Stiles and he never wants to screw this up. He wants to show Stiles each and every day. Wants to make him feel loved. Because that’s the way Stiles makes him feel.

“Me too,” Stiles whispers, and it takes Derek a second to get with the program again. He kisses Stiles once more, before pulling back and lining himself up again. He pushes his cock in slowly, never losing eye contact with Stiles.

Once he’s bottomed out, he curls himself over Stiles, hands smoothing Stiles’ shoulders before finding an anchor behind his neck, fingers toying with Stiles’ hair. Stiles hooks his legs around Derek’s waist, pulling him in, closer. The kiss they share tastes of promise, and Stiles’ hands on his back are the only things keeping Derek grounded. He speeds up his thrusts, balls slapping against Stiles’ ass, sweat pooling between them as their chests rub together. There’s pre-come leaking from Stiles’ cock where it’s trapped between their stomachs, and it should all be kind of gross, but it’s the best feeling in the world to Derek right now.

He kisses his way over Stiles’ collarbone, Stiles gasping and grunting as Derek rubs his stubbled cheek over Stiles’ nipple. Then Stiles freezes and comes between them, untouched, without so much as a warning, but with a strangled cry that sounds remarkably like Derek’s name. He tightens around Derek, and it’s almost enough to squeeze the orgasm right out of Derek as well.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Stiles gasps, going boneless in Derek’s arms, his head lolling to the side. “That… Didn’t see that one coming. Heh.”

Derek is gasping for air around a laugh, because Stiles looks a mix of satisfied, surprised, and smug.

“Come on,” Stiles mutters, lifting his head to catch Derek in a kiss again, as his hands slip down over Derek’s hips, to guide him in his thrusts. “C’mon.”

Derek pushes back in and out of Stiles, his face buried into the crook of Stiles’ neck as he comes a couple of minutes later, deep into Stiles. He hitches out a breath, biting down on the tendon of Stiles’ neck, muffling his groan before collapsing on top of Stiles. Stiles runs his hand up Derek’s hair, the prickling running down his spine, making him shiver as he’s coming down from his orgasm.

“How did we manage to go a month without this?” Stiles huffs in his ear, fingers trailing over Derek’s back as Derek clings to him. “Did we even remember how _good_ we were at this?”

“We got even better,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ skin, kissing the bruise he bit into it.

“You know why that is, right?” Stiles asks, his voice suddenly soft and gentle, as Derek lifts his head to look him in the eye.

“Yeah,” Derek says, brushing his fingers over Stiles’ temple, “Because this is more.”

Stiles smiles, his eyes never leaving Derek’s, and he agrees. “I think this might be… _everything_.”

Derek feels his heart clench at the words, and he presses his lips on Stiles’ in agreement.

“Am I crushing you?” Derek whispers against Stiles’ lips, realizing that his full weight is still on Stiles, sticky come drying between their stomachs.

“Mmm, don’t move,” Stiles mumbles, his arms curling around Derek’s shoulders to keep him close.

“I’m warning you,” Derek whispers through his smile, nuzzling his nose in Stiles’ skin. “You might not get rid of me anymore.”

Stiles squeezes his arms a little tighter around Derek, before pushing him over on his back, Stiles right on top of him.

“I thought we’d established by now that there’s really no way I want to get rid of you?” Stiles smiles, and Derek beams just as Stiles licks a stripe up Derek’s chin over his cheek with his tongue.

Derek squints, chuckles as he tilts his head away, but his arms still have a tight grip around Stiles’ body.

“Still want me after I’m gross like that?” Stiles laughs, blowing a loud, wet raspberry against Derek’s cheek.

Derek smirks, then darts out his tongue to lick at the tip of Stiles’ nose, and Stiles ducks his head and rubs his nose against Derek’s chest.

“Yeah, still want you,” Derek says, fingers sweeping a strand of stray and slightly sweaty hair off of Stiles’ forehead. “No doubt about it.”

Stiles lifts his head, locks eyes with Derek, and says, “Then we’re golden.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling. “I guess we are.”

***

**Epilogue**

“Okay, I am begging you to please _breathe_ ,” Stiles says as he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, almost being overrun by Derek.

“I just…” Derek says, hardly even paying attention to Stiles, as he takes one of the pots off the stove, only to do a lap around the kitchen with it and set it back down in exactly the same spot.

“Derek!” Stiles says, trying to hold in his chuckle as he grabs Derek’s upper arms and stills him in front of him.

Derek lets out a breath, his eyes finally landing on Stiles’, his mouth open like he’s in the middle of wanting to say something.

“It’s just dinner,” Stiles says, stepping a little closer to Derek, hands still firmly in place. “Can you please not have a heart attack over it?”

“I…” Derek starts, looks around the kitchen again, probably taking in all the mess. He swallows, then nods and focuses back on Stiles. “It’s dinner with your dad, and, and… Melissa and Scott. And my sister, and…”

“It’s a family dinner,” Stiles nods, bringing up his hand to smooth over Derek’s jaw. “Our families. You know, the ones that love us?”

“But it’s a first family dinner, and your dad has never been to my place, and what if he - ?” Derek starts, and Stiles thinks that maybe if he listens very hard, he can hear Derek’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“My dad has actually known you longer than I have, Derek,” Stiles says, and it was meant in a reassuring way, but Derek’s eyes only widen more. “He adores you!” Stiles hastens to add. “He’s happy for us. Scott loves everyone that I love, he’s contractually obligated by being my best friend. And Melissa doesn’t have an evil bone in her body. She’ll be perfect as always. You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing.”

Derek closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, relaxing under Stiles’ touch.

“So what you’re saying is…” Derek says, and finally there’s a smirk appearing on his face, “That Laura is basically the one to watch out for. And that’ll be all on you, so…”

Stiles purses his lips, trying to give Derek the stink-eye. “That’s nice. Really, what an amazing boyfriend you are.”

Derek’s arms bend around him, and Stiles huffs but leans into his chest anyway.

“I’m the luckiest boyfriend ever,” Derek whispers in his ear, and it makes Stiles smile and nuzzle his face against Derek’s neck.

“So can you not freak out about this dinner anymore then?” Stiles mumbles, inhaling against Derek’s warm skin.

“I’ll try…” Derek says, pressing his lips against Stiles’ forehead.

“Good,” Stiles says, hand rubbing up and down over Derek’s side. “Because whatever’s in that pot is gonna burn in about two minutes if you don’t take it off the burner soon…”

“Fuck!” Derek mutters, letting go of Stiles in a second as he rushes to the stove to save his food.

Stiles chuckles, and starts cleaning up some of the mess on the countertop.

***

“This is delicious, Derek,” Melissa says, smiling sweetly at him, and Stiles grins proudly as he touches Derek’s arm for a second.

“Thank you,” Derek says, beaming widely, as he refills the wine glasses.

“It really is,” Stiles’ dad agrees, scooping up his fork excitedly, “And none of that rabbit food Stiles always tries to have me eat.”

“Hey!” Stiles complains, and Scott chuckles.

“That’s not what he makes when he’s over here though,” Derek tells the sheriff.

“Lucky you,” his dad says, then points his fork in Stiles’ direction. “I see how it is, the dad gets the ‘healthy food’ speech, but Derek here gets all the good stuff.”

“ _Dad_!” Stiles calls out, as Laura starts giggling, and he can feel his cheeks start to blush.

“We’ll have you over more often, Sheriff,” Derek says, and Stiles can’t even be angry because he knows how important it is for Derek to bond with his father.

“Oh no, none of that ‘Sheriff’ talk anymore,” Stiles’ father shakes his head, “When you’ve seen the inside of my son’s bedroom, I think it’s safe for you to call me John.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles mutters, his face turning beet-red.

“Oh, this is brilliant,” Laura exclaims, as she and Scott start sniggering at each other.

Derek squeezes his eyes shut, no doubt trying to overcome the embarrassment.

“Don’t torture them like this,” Melissa tells John, but she’s laughing too. “Be nice to these kids.”

“Sadly, this _is_ him being nice,” Stiles says, trying to recover, and he puts a reassuring hand over Derek’s, who looks like he’s afraid to speak.

“How was that not nice?” John asks Melissa, all innocent-like, but the smirk on his face gives him away.

Stiles leans into Derek as Melissa says something to his father, and he whispers in Derek’s ear, “Trust me. You want him to tease. This is a good thing.”

Derek seems to relax a little bit, nodding as he leans into Stiles some more, almost like he’s about to kiss him, but then he stops at the last minute. It’s Stiles that gives a quick peck on Derek’s cheek, squeezing his hand comfortingly before letting go to grab his utensils again.

“Not to toot my own horn or anything…” Laura starts, with a smile, “But I’d say that charity auction I put together definitely paid off.”

“Since when do you not toot your own horn?” Derek winks at Laura, but she just smiles at him smugly.

“I can only praise you for it, Laura!” John says, throwing an arm over Melissa’s shoulder, and it kind of makes Stiles’ stomach flutter to see his father so genuinely happy, so… in love.

“No complaints here either,” Derek says softly, and Stiles’ stomach flutters some more.

“What about you, Scott?” Laura asks, and Scott ducks his head instantly, muttering something under his breath as the tips of his ears turn pink.

Stiles laughs, as Melissa says all sweetly, “Oh, you see, Laura, Scott won’t tell what the deal is with him and Allison and Isaac. He’s being highly mysterious about it.”

“ _Mo-om_ ,” Scott groans under his breath, shoulders drooped so low Stiles thinks he’s at risk of disappearing under the table or something.

“That sounds interesting,” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows at Scott.

“No, it’s really not,” Scott says hastily, running his food from one side of his plate to the other with his fork, “Nothing interesting here. Not at all.”

“Dude…” Stiles laughs, and Scott dares to look up at him briefly, “You’re only digging a bigger hole, man.”

“Can we go back to how Derek knows the inside of Stiles’ bedroom now?” Scott asks, like the little devil that he is, and the table erupts in laughter as Derek and Stiles groan.

“Worst friend _ever_!” Stiles barks out, but he can’t help but laugh.

“I am never gonna dare put another foot in the Stilinski house again,” Derek mutters to himself, but Stiles’ father is laughing along, so he knows they’re all good.

“What about you, Laura?” Melissa asks, and bless her for changing the subject. “How did your date end up going?”

“Deputy Parrish, right?” John asks.

“Yeah. He’s sweet. And I do so love me a man in uniform,” Laura says, and Stiles pretends not to notice Melissa is nodding her head fervently, because those aren’t the kinds of thoughts he wants to have about his father and Melissa. One shared look with Scott and he can tell he’s not alone in this.

“I’ll go get some more mashed potatoes,” Derek says quietly as Laura tells John and Melissa about her dates with the deputy, and he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

Stiles gets up after Derek, throwing a quick “I’ll be right back” at the table, before joining Derek in the kitchen, where he’s busy scooping more hot mashed potatoes from the pot into a nice dish.

“Still nervous?” Stiles asks, leaning his hip against the counter as he watches Derek.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Derek says, a content smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?” Stiles grins, and Derek puts down the food for a second as he leans closer to Stiles.

“Thank you,” he says, slipping his arms around Stiles and pulling him into a hug.

“For what?” Stiles asks, softly, gently caressing his cheek against Derek’s stubble.

“For making my life better,” Derek mutters, holding him tight.

Stiles shivers in Derek’s arms, pulling him as close to him as possible.

“Thank you for letting me love you,” Stiles says in response, because if Derek thinks that he’s the only one whose life is better since they’ve pulled their shit together, he’s sorely mistaken.

Derek’s lips find his own, and the kiss says ‘I love you’ louder than any words.

***

The End

 


End file.
